


The Long Bright Dark

by lachatblanche



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Background Character Death, Crime Scenes, Disturbing scenes, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder, Plotty, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 90,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5186060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years ago Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr closed the case on a grotesque series of murders that continue to haunt them even in the present day. When they are pulled in for questioning a decade later, they finally have confirmation of something that they have both suspected for a very long time - that there is unfinished business for them to take care of and that the case they thought they had closed so very long ago is in reality still all too open.</p><p>A <em>True Detective</em> AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the making for a very long time (I started it right after TD (series one) had ended) and I'm finally getting around to posting it now. Please excuse my fuzzy knowledge of police-work - hopefully it should all make sense! 
> 
> Present-day narrative is in normal text, past events are in italics. It may help if you imagine DOFP Charles and Erik for the present and XMFC Charles and Erik for the past.
> 
> Spoilers for _True Detective_ series one.

The office was quiet. The electric fan hummed as the blades whirled around in a graceful arc, cutting through the temporary silence of the room. The only other sound came from the muted breathing of the office’s three occupants, who sat gazing at each other with a mixture of wariness and outright dislike, two of them separated from the one by a functional plain metal desk. 

The silence stretched out for a moment longer, growing increasingly charged as the seconds ticked by. A minute later, however, and the quiet was broken by a flat, cutting remark.

‘This is a complete waste of time.’ 

At this, Detectives MacTaggert and Levine turned to each other and shared a careful look. ‘Mr. Lehnsherr,’ Detective Levine began, ‘We have gone over this, we—’

‘Yes, Detective, you are correct,’ came the sharp retort. ‘We _have_ gone over it. Extensively. In the report which I filed twelve years ago. The same report, in fact, that you have sitting there in front of you.’

Detective MacTaggert’s brow furrowed at the hostile tone and she frowned at the man in front of her. ‘Please don’t be difficult about this, Mr. Lehnsherr,’ she said quietly. ‘You know what is at stake here. Probably better than anyone. You know what we’re up against.’

Former-detective Erik Lehnsherr’s jaw tightened at that, and his fingers clenched till they were almost white. After a moment, however, his shoulders relaxed minutely and he gave a brusque nod. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I do.’ He then cocked his head and regarded them speculatively. ‘… And, as I’m sure you know, so does Charles.’ He slowly leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. ‘I presume he’s also been here? That he too went through this whole …’ he paused, searching for an appropriate word, ‘rigmarole?’

Levine and MacTaggert shared a wary glance.

‘Yes,’ MacTaggert said after a moment. ‘He has.’

Lehnsherr let out a humourless chuckle at that. ‘Then I am surprised that you need me here at all. I’m sure that Charles was only too willing to tell you everything he knows. He was always the more pleasant one out of the two of us, for all his other shortcomings. I have no doubt that you must have found him _very_ helpful.’

Levine and MacTaggert shared another look.

‘Mr. Xavier – your former partner – he’s the helpful sort, is he?’ MacTaggert asked casually.

‘Oh yes,’ Lehnsherr’s smile turned harsh. ‘Charles has always been so _very_ helpful. Always so curious and interested in everything and everyone … Always unable to leave things alone.’ He paused and gave Detectives Levine and MacTaggert a cold, humourless smile. ‘Always so very eager to _help_.’

*****

__  
**Thirteen years earlier:**  


 

_‘Do you need any help with that, Erik?’_

_‘No,’ Erik replied shortly, not looking up from his work. ‘Go away.’_

_Charles, naturally, took that as an invitation to perch himself on Erik’s desk and look over his shoulder. ‘What are you doing, anyway?’_

_‘Paperwork,’ Erik grunted, still not looking away from his notes. ‘Someone around here has to do it.’_

_‘And I’m sure you do it admirably,’ Charles said equably, patting Erik on the shoulder._

_Erik grunted but he allowed the touch, before directing his attention back to his paperwork._

_Two weeks into their partnership and they were only just beginning to figure the other one out. Erik Lehnsherr was the sort to put his nose to the grindstone and jot down every last note and follow every last lead, while Charles’s system was a little more … haphazard. Erik was almost tempted to say that Charles had no system at all, but he had seen what Charles was like when he was confronted by a crime scene. He might not take notes and he might not file reports or do anything of tangible merit, but he **did** have a process. It was simply a purely cerebral one, that was all._

_Erik didn’t mind it so much. He actually preferred to be the one doing the paperwork – that way he knew it was being done right._

_‘Let me know if you need me for anything,’ Charles said amiably, again patting Erik on the shoulder. Erik’s shoulder blades began to itch. ‘I’m only a call away.’_

_‘Charles, you’re sat less than five paces away from me,’ Erik said dryly. ‘I’d hardly have to **call**.’ _

_Charles smiled. ‘I wasn’t just talking about **now** ,’ he said with a smile, before rising from his seat. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a suspect to interrogate.’ _

_Erik watched him silently as he moved away, his brow furrowed. Then, with a shake of his head, he turned back to his report and started typing._

_He wouldn’t have to worry about having Xavier as a partner for too long, he was sure. He would leave before too soon._

_They always did._

*****

‘What about trustworthy?’ MacTaggert asked, leaning forward slightly. ‘Would you say that Xavier was a man that you could rely on?’

‘Well that entirely depends on the circumstances,’ Lehnsherr said dryly, settling back in his seat. ‘Could I rely on him to write a report after we finished a case? No, I could not. Could I rely on him to carry a damn gun when he went on duty? No, I could not. Could I rely on him to be a pain in the ass for absolutely every second of every day?’ Lehnsherr tilted his head as if he were deep in thought before smiling humourlessly. ‘Why yes, I could.’ He paused. ‘That’s not what you were asking, however, was it, Detective MacTaggert? No – you wanted to know if Charles was a good partner … a good detective.’

‘And was he?’ 

Lehnsherr met her eyes. ‘He was the best,’ he said quietly. ‘Charles may not have been the best police officer, but he was the most excellent detective that I have ever come across.’ His eyes drifted across Detective MacTaggert and Detective Levine. ‘Before _or_ after.’

‘So he was a trustworthy person then,’ MacTaggert said firmly, before Levine could interrupt. ‘He was – generally speaking – honest and truthful?’

Lehnsherr turned to her at that, his eyebrow rising slowly on his forehead. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ he said softly. ‘But then – being trustworthy is not exactly the same as being truthful, is it?’

*****

‘Mr. Lehnsherr speaks very highly of you in the case file.’

Xavier glanced up from where he had been staring at the picture of Detectives Levine and MacTaggert shaking hands with the Mayor. ‘Did he?’ he asked mildly, cocking his head at them. ‘In a report from over a decade ago? How very interesting.’

MacTaggert ignored him. ‘He wrote that you were invaluable to the case and that your skills and intuition made you all but unsurpassable as a detective,’ she continued. ‘He said that you were one of the most intelligent men that he had ever come across.’

Xavier appeared to be only barely interested by her words. ‘Is that what he said?’ he asked lightly, allowing his eyes to slide across the walls of the office. Then he shrugged. ‘Oh well, if Erik said so then it _must_ be true.’

Levine narrowed his eyes. ‘Was that sarcasm?’ he demanded, eyeing Xavier suspiciously.

Xavier raised an eyebrow. ‘Sarcasm?’ he repeated, his face completely straight. ‘Perish the thought.’

MacTaggert breathed out an impatient sigh as Levine let out a growl. ‘Never mind that,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘But let us return to your relationship with former-Detective Lehnsherr, Mr. Xavier. Did you get on well with him?’ 

Xavier paused at that, looking engaged for perhaps the first time since the start of the interview. ‘Did I get on well with Erik …’ he repeated pensively, scratching at his unshaved chin as he chewed the question over. ‘Well … I guess the short answer is yes … that is, as much as anyone can get on with him, I suppose.’ At MacTaggert and Levine’s querying looks he gave them a dry smile. ‘You probably won’t know this yet, but Erik – _former-Detective Lehnsherr_ , as you called him – he isn’t the most …. _personable_ man you could ever meet. Although ironically,’ Xavier’s mouth lifted up in a half-smile, ‘it was partly his misanthropy that made him so very interesting. Not to mention such a good detective.’

‘You admired him, then?’ MacTaggert asked lightly.

‘Erik is a very admirable man,’ Xavier responded pleasantly.

‘That wasn’t an answer.’

‘Wasn’t it?’ Xavier blinked slowly. ‘Oh. Well then. Sorry.’

MacTaggert sighed. ‘You are being cooperative with us, aren’t you Mr. Xavier?’

‘But of course,’ Xavier cocked his head at her. ‘Why, isn’t it coming across?’

MacTaggert smiled thinly. ‘Not particularly.’

‘My apologies,’ Xavier said smoothly. ‘I hadn’t realised. That’s the problem with all human interaction, you see,’ he shrugged. ‘Everything is subjective. What may be uncooperative to you appears fully accommodating and helpful to me. In the end, we are both correct – I am being simultaneously cooperative and uncooperative. Fascinating, isn’t it?’ Xavier took a thoughtful sip from the very much out-of-place wine glass in front of him. ‘It really shines a light on the limitations of human communication.’

‘What would you suggest?’ MacTaggert said impatiently. ‘That we evolve to read minds?’

Xavier’s smile was lopsided. ‘That would be terribly useful, wouldn’t it?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Levine said grimly. ‘If we could read minds then Detective MacTaggert and I wouldn’t have to sit here listening to _this_ bullshit.’

‘My thoughts exactly, detective,’ Xavier murmured, giving Levine a deliberately sweet smile. 

‘Enough,’ MacTaggert said tiredly. ‘Mr. Xavier, please stick to the questions you are asked and please think carefully about the answers you give. This is very important. We need to make this report as full and comprehensive as we can.’ She paused then and cocked her head to the side as she looked at Xavier, her expression slightly wary. ‘I don’t suppose you and Lehnsherr have discussed the case recently, have you?’

‘Have I discussed this with Erik?’ Xavier repeated with surprise. He blinked once and then slowly brought the glass of scotch to his lips. ‘Detective MacTaggert,’ he murmured, shaking his head. ‘You really need to do your research.’

MacTaggert raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh? And why is that, Mr. Xavier?’

‘Because, Detective,’ Xavier said coolly, meeting her eyes, ‘I haven’t spoken to Erik Lehnsherr in almost ten years.’

*****

_‘You can talk to me, you know.’_

_‘Can I?’ Erik’s tone was dry. ‘And here I was thinking that it was just a one-way system.’_

_Charles glanced over at him from where he was sitting in the passenger seat of the car. ‘Are you by any chance implying that I talk too much?’_

_‘I wasn’t **implying** anything.’ _

_‘You’re an ass.’ Charles seemed to be strangely cheerful about this._

_‘And you talk too much. We both have our faults, it seems.’_

_‘ **Everyone** has faults, Erik. It’s just that some are more excusable than others.’ _

_Erik turned and glanced at him. ‘You assume that I find the fault of talking too much to be an excusable one.’_

_Charles smirked at that. ‘Oh, I know you do.’_

_Erik’s eyebrows rose. ‘You **know** I do?’ _

_Charles smirked. ‘I think that you’d find it hard to say that I’m anything other than frightfully entertaining and marvellously erudite.’ He smiled a little at Erik’s unimpressed expression before shrugging and settling back against his seat. ‘The fact is we’re police officers, Erik. If anyone on earth knows what human fault is, it’s us. We face little **but** human fault and, more often than not, these faults **are** inexcusable.’ Here he closed his eyes, looking for all intents and purposes as if he intended to take a long, satisfying nap right there in the car. ‘Really, if we don’t learn to let the little ones go, then we’d probably end up going mad. And, as fetching as you would look in a straitjacket, Erik, I would really rather that didn’t happen to you.’ _

_Erik was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. ‘Are you going to end up questioning my sanity every time I ask you for a moment’s peace?’_

_Charles’s smile widened. ‘It’s possible,’ he said easily, his eyes still closed as he leaned against the seat. ‘Why, were you planning on asking very often?’_

_Erik gave a wry smile. ‘Not any more,’ he muttered, before pressing down on the accelerator pedal and driving on._

*****

‘See, that’s the thing about Charles,’ Lehnsherr said coolly, taking a short pull of his cigarette. His eyes were the colour of slate, and they gave nothing away. ‘He liked to talk. He could talk about every damn subject under the sun – and he often did, more’s the pity.’ Lehnsherr was silent for a moment. ‘There was only one thing that he would keep mum about,’ he said at last. ‘Just one subject he wouldn’t touch with a fucking barge pole. And that was himself. He wouldn’t talk about his personal life and he wouldn’t talk about his past. It’s not like I even cared so much – it’s not like I’m all that keen to share my own life story with people, either – it’s just that with Charles it was _really_ noticeable. He would talk for hours about absolutely everything else but trying to get him to talk about his family was like trying to get blood from a stone: pointless and goddamn frustrating.’

Levine watched as he brought the cigarette back to his lips and took a long drag. ‘That’s funny,’ he said, his face expressionless. ‘That’s exactly what Xavier said about you.’

Lehnsherr’s face hardened. ‘Yeah, well Charles is a fucking liar,’ he said harshly, a flash of emotion crossing his face for the first time. ‘You’d better add that to your notes on the list of things you know about Charles Xavier. He may look and talk like he’s prince charming but in reality he’s got the tongue of a fucking snake.’

‘You know this from personal experience?’ Levine asked idly.

Lehnsherr gave him an ugly look. ‘He was my partner,’ he said flatly. ‘Of course I fucking knew it.’

‘So he never told you about his family?’ MacTaggert asked, her tone neutral. ‘He never opened up to you about them?’

Lehnsherr hesitated at that. ‘He told me his family were all dead,’ he said at last. ‘Every last single one of them. Except for Raven, that is. Raven Xavier.’

‘That would be …’ Levine consulted his notes. ‘The sister?’

‘Half-sister,’ Lehnsherr corrected. ‘Not that you’d know it. Thick as thieves, those two. Well,’ he paused. ‘They _used_ to be, at any rate.’

‘Before you came along,’ Levine supplied.

Lehnsherr huffed out a laugh. ‘That what he told you?’

‘He said that things changed after that first dinner you had together.’

‘Oh they changed,’ Lehnsherr said grimly, squeezing the cigarette between his fingers, ‘Just don’t ask me if it was for the better.’

*****

_‘You know, I can’t help thinking that you don’t want me here,’ Erik said coolly, regarding Charles with an expression of idle curiosity. ‘And, really, I might actually have been insulted … if it weren’t for the fact that I don’t want to be here either.’_

_Charles grimaced. ‘It’s not that I don’t want you here, Erik,’ he said, a note of apology in his voice. ‘It’s just …’ He trailed off, not finishing the sentence._

_Erik watched him silently for a moment. ‘People think that I’m secretive,’ he said at last. ‘But you – you take it to another level, Xavier.’ He huffed out a laugh. ‘We’ve been partners for – what? – three months now? And I didn’t even know you had a sister until you told me that she was inviting me to dinner.’_

_‘ **We** invited you to dinner,’ Charles corrected him, looking slightly exasperated. ‘The invitation was from the both of us.’ _

_‘Notice that he’s leaving out the part where I had to bully him into it!’ came a clear, feminine voice with a teasing note to it._

_Turning around, the men were greeted by the sight of Raven Xavier coming towards them in a halo of blonde hair with a cheerful smile on her face. She made a beeline for Erik, still smiling, and held out a hand for him to shake._

_‘Hi, you must be Erik,’ she said enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling as she took him in. ‘I’m Raven, Charles’s sister. I assume that he’s told you absolutely nothing about me.’_

_‘You’d be correct,’ Erik said dryly, reaching out and taking her hand in his._

_‘He’s told me all about you, of course,’ Raven said airily, still shaking his hand vigorously. She then turned to Charles with a sly look. ‘Although he seems to have forgotten to tell me just how terribly **good-looking** you are.’ _

_‘Raven,’ Charles said tersely, looking at her sternly. ‘You’re making Erik feel uncomfortable.’_

_Raven rolled her eyes at that but she nevertheless let go of Erik’s hand and took a step back. ‘Come on,’ she said, winking at him and jerking her head towards the dining room. ‘You can sit next to me.’_

_Casting a look over at Charles, who simply shrugged helplessly in response, Erik straightened his shoulders and, giving Raven Xavier a nod, followed her through into the dining room._

*****

‘You know, you’re being terribly patient about all this.’ Xavier may have had more than one glass of wine but his eyes were unclouded and completely focused. Clearly he was a man who could handle his drink. ‘About me reminiscing over my old partner.’ He cocked his head and studied the detectives in front of him. ‘Surely you would rather I just skip to the fun part …?’

‘ _Fun_ part?’ MacTaggert asked sharply.

Xavier raised an eyebrow lazily. ‘Simply an expression, my dear. Sorry – _detective_.’ He looked and sounded perfectly contrite, but there was something in his eyes that rung of sharp amusement. Then he sobered and straightened in his seat. ‘But yes, surely you would rather I moved on to the … more _salient_ points of the investigation?’

‘We will get to the finding of Munoz’s body in time,’ Levine said placidly. ‘For now we would like for you to continue as you have. How did Lehnsherr react to being invited to dinner with your sister?’

Xavier sighed. ‘That bloody dinner,’ he murmured, his eyes drifting away to an abandoned corner of the cold, grey office. ‘That was where the lines really started to get blurred, you know. That one bloody dinner …’

*****

_‘So Charles tells me you don’t have a family?’_

_Erik met the eyes of his hostess and shrugged. ‘I did once,’ he said shortly. ‘Not anymore.’ His eyes wandered over to a picture on the mantelpiece which showed the Xavier siblings standing close together and smiling widely. They were the only two that featured in the dozens of photographs that were littered through the house._

_‘That’s sad,’ Raven said sympathetically. Then, ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’_

_Charles snorted at that. ‘Subtle, Raven. Very subtle.’_

_Raven glared at him from across the table and then quickly turned her attention back to Erik. ‘Well?’ she asked, plastering on a smile._

_Erik eyed her for a moment. Then he shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No girlfriend.’ He glanced at Charles._

_‘That’s too bad,’ Raven said, although her tone indicated otherwise._

_‘Not really,’ Erik shrugged._

_‘Oh,’ Raven blinked. ‘Well – I guess not.’_

_‘You may as well give it up, Raven,’ Charles said lightly. ‘Erik wasn’t made for human company. He prefers to brood alone.’_

_‘And **you** prefer to brood in company,’ Erik replied bluntly, quick as a shot. _

_There was a pause._

_‘Huh,’ Raven said thoughtfully, looking carefully between them both. ‘Only a few months in and already your partner’s got you figured out. You’re getting predictable, brother.’_

_Charles scowled but Erik shook his head._

_‘No,’ he said, watching as he slowly drove the tines of his fork through a single green pea, ‘Somehow I doubt that anyone has ever had Charles all figured out.’_

_He could feel Charles’s eyes boring into the side of his face but he didn’t look up._

_‘Hmm,’ Raven was watching him closely. ‘Well, you may not have Charles **all** figured out, but you’ve definitely come the closest out of anyone, wouldn’t you say, Charles?’ _

_‘Oh yes,’ Charles glanced up from his plate and smiled. ‘I allowed him to meet **you** now, didn’t I?’ _

_‘Only because I **made** you invite him,’ Raven laughed. She turned to Erik. ‘I really had to twist Charles’s arm for this, you know. He doesn’t like inviting people back here, if he can help it.’ _

_Erik glanced around at the house but, surprisingly, didn’t ask why. Instead he raised an eyebrow at Raven. ‘Why were you so eager to meet me?’_

_Raven shrugged. ‘You’re Charles’s partner, right? So you’re the guy that’s responsible for keeping my brother safe. I thought that I should be able to meet that guy.’ She paused. ‘Plus Charles just wouldn’t shut up about you for these past few—’_

_‘ **Raven!** ’ Charles sputtered out, looking scandalised. _

_Raven merely smirked at him and turned back to Erik. Erik, however, was watching Charles closely._

_‘What were you saying about me?’ he asked curiously, frowning._

_Charles glared at Raven, who smiled sweetly at him before rising from the table. ‘And that’s my cue to go and get more wine,’ she said with a grin. She paused before leaving the room. ‘Do you want anything, Charles? I think we’ve got some orange juice knocking about somewhere.’_

_Charles shook his head. ‘No, no, I’m fine. Well – apart from the part where you just embarrassed me.’_

_Raven just grinned before sallying out of the room._

_There was a moment of silence._

_‘Orange juice?’ Erik asked after a moment._

_Charles shrugged. ‘You’re far too observant not to have noticed that I haven’t had any wine tonight, or at any point in the few short weeks that we’ve known each other. I’m sure you’ve already figured it out.’_

_Erik gave a small nod. ‘Problems?’ he asked lightly._

_‘There used to be,’ Charles replied in a similarly light tone. ‘But they all stopped when I decided to stick to orange juice.’_

_Erik nodded at that. Then, as if he felt that some sort of transaction had occurred that left him in debt, he gruffly offered, ‘I recently gave up smoking.’_

_‘Hmm,’ Charles took a sip of water. ‘I’d noticed.’_

_Erik raised an eyebrow at that. ‘Nothing slips by you, does it?’ he murmured._

_Charles tilted his head to the side, considering. ‘No,’ he said after a moment. ‘Not really.’_

_And they continued on in pleasant silence until Raven returned with the wine._

*****

‘Looks like Xavier’s resolution was shot to pieces,’ Levine muttered, turning and raising an eyebrow at MacTaggert.

MacTaggert didn’t reply, but her eyes drifted to the cigarette now in Lehnsherr’s hand.

Lehnsherr let out a small huff of laughter and deliberately brought the cigarette to his mouth. ‘I guess we both figured that whatever got us in the end it wouldn’t be our vices,’ he said dryly. He then nodded at Levine. ‘What makes you say that about Charles? I can’t say I’m surprised but even so I rather doubt that he turned up for your interrogation reeking of alcohol. Unless he’s changed more than I am able to imagine.’

MacTaggert glared at Levine, who shrugged. ‘Xavier was perfectly presentable,’ she said at last, sighing with something like exasperation. ‘But he wouldn’t answer our questions without first being provided with – what was it?’

‘“Adequate libation”,’ Levine said helpfully.

‘Oh yes,’ MacTaggert’s smile was thin. ‘Without _adequate libation_.’

Lehnsherr did not even bother to cover his smirk. ‘Well, well,’ he murmured. ‘Would you look at that. He made a power play. Good on him.’

‘Quite,’ MacTaggert was clearly not as impressed. ‘But we’re veering off tangent. You said before that Xavier was very reserved about his home life. Why do you think he finally decided to invite to his house that night?’

Lehnsherr raised an eyebrow at that. ‘Think?’ he scoffed. ‘I don’t think, I _know_. He invited me over because his sister made him. If it were up to him, I’m sure that I wouldn’t have even known she existed.’

MacTaggert leaned forward. ‘He was protective of her?’

‘He was _over_ -protective of her,’ Lehnsherr answered bluntly. ‘Wanted to keep her wrapped up in cotton wool and away from reality. He damn well tried his best to, at any rate. She wasn’t having any of that, though.’

‘She rebelled?’ Levine asked curiously.

‘Not at first,’ Lehnsherr said, shrugging. ‘She loved her brother, you see. It was only the two of them in that big fucking house and they clung to each other. It wasn’t something that could be broken easily.’

‘But then you arrived.’

‘But then I arrived,’ Lehnsherr repeated. He slowly brought his cigarette up to his mouth. ‘Not that any of what happened after that was my fault. I suppose that’s what Charles told you? That everything was my fault?’ When neither Levine nor MacTaggert reacted, he sighed. ‘Yeah, well – it wasn’t. I was more of a … catalyst. I just sped up what was always going to happen.’

*****

_‘Raven wants to become a police officer,’ Charles said abruptly as they drove towards the address given by the police radio, his hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel. ‘She said it’s something that she’s always wanted and now that she’s twenty-one, she wants to join up.’_

_Erik glanced at him. ‘What did you say?’_

_‘I said “why yes, Raven, of course you can go and paint a bulls-eye over your chest and get shot at for a living”. What the hell do you think I said?’_

_Erik shrugged. ‘You’re an idiot.’_

_Charles’s jaw tightened. ‘Why, because I don’t want my baby sister to face the worst of humanity on a daily basis?’_

_‘ **You** do.’ _

_‘Yes, I do,’ Charles agreed. ‘And that’s **why** I don’t want her to join the police. Do you think I want her to face the same things we do? Do you think I want that for her?’ _

_Erik shook his head. ‘You’re a hypocrite.’_

_‘We’re all hypocrites,’ Charles said flatly. ‘I got over **that** human shortcoming a long time ago.’ _

_They pulled up on the side of the road, just behind what appeared to be a fleet of police cars. They got out of the car just as one of the officers jogged up to them._

_‘Detectives,’ the man nodded at them, an expression that almost seemed to be relief crossing his face. ‘We’re glad you’re here.’_

_Charles nodded back. ‘What exactly do we have here?’_

_‘It’s—’ the man hesitated, a strange expression crossing his face. ‘It’s … maybe you should just see for yourselves?’_

_Erik and Charles exchanged a glance._

_‘You intrigue us,’ Charles said mildly, even though his face had clouded over. ‘Is it really that strange?’_

_The police officer swallowed. ‘This is a quiet town here, detectives,’ he said, looking at the two of them earnestly. ‘Quiet and filled with decent people. The most we get down here is the occasional theft, maybe a DUI every now and then. But this …’ he shook his head, his face pale. ‘A normal murder would be bad enough, but this—’ Here he faltered. ‘This here’s some **messed-up** shit, if you don’t mind me saying, sir.’ _

_‘Not at all,’ Charles said. He glanced at Erik. ‘Like I said, you intrigue me. Now, if you please – lead the way.’_

_They followed the officer a little way off, towards a clearing. It was easy to see why the body hadn’t been found earlier – the path was a little off the beaten track and would not have been visible from the road. Only someone passing through the clearing would have been able to see whatever it was that awaited them at the end of the path._

_They passed a few policemen as they walked, and it was clear to see that each one of them had been disturbed by what they had seen. They kept walking, however, without pausing, until they came to a slight bend in the path. They followed the curve and walked along it until suddenly they were no longer blocked by the trees and so were able to see, there in front of them –_

_‘Now see,’ Charles said after a minute, his expression grim. ‘ **This** is why I don’t want my sister becoming a police officer.’ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for crime scenes and some disturbing details.

‘We have pictures of the body,’ MacTaggert pulled out a series of photographs and placed them carefully in front of Lehnsherr. ‘Just to help you remember.’

‘My memory’s fine,’ Lehnsherr said gruffly, ignoring the pictures. ‘Hard to forget, a scene like that.’

‘I’d imagine so,’ Levine agreed, watching him closely. ‘How did Xavier react to the crime scene?’

Lehnsherr shrugged. ‘In the normal way,’ he said.

‘Normal for him or just _normal_?’ MacTaggert asked shrewdly.

Lehnsherr grinned at that. His many teeth glinted even in the dull light, throwing an almost sinister air over his face. ‘Clever girl,’ he murmured. ‘You’re learning to ask the right questions.’

‘I can see now why you and Xavier were partners for so long,’ MacTaggert replied dryly. ‘You’re both patronising assholes.’

Lehnsherr’s grin widened. ‘It’s part of our charm. Or so I’ve been told. Usually by Charles himself.’

‘I bet,’ MacTaggert muttered. ‘Anyway – tell us what happened. When you found the body.’

Lehnsherr shrugged. ‘Nothing happened, at first. _You’ve_ seen the pictures. Something like that – it’s not an easy sight. Not for me, and not for Charles.’

‘You found it disturbing?’

Lehnsherr gave Detective MacTaggert a look. ‘I think anyone would have found it disturbing,’ he said quietly. ‘The victim – Munoz – had his skin flayed from his body and replaced with reptile scales. It wasn’t easy to look at then and it isn’t any easier to look at now.’ He glanced down at the photographs in front of him and, with a grimace of disgust, pushed them away.

‘And how did Xavier deal with it?’ 

Lehnsherr paused. ‘He – he looked like he was going to be sick. I thought he _would_ be sick, at first. He didn’t, though.’ He tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘I’ll say this for Charles – he may not look like the toughest guy in the room but in reality he’s quite possibly the strongest man I’ve known. Looked like he was going to keel over in the beginning but then two minutes later he’s up there with his nose an inch away from the body, as if he’s some kind of scientist studying a lab rat.’ Lehnsherr snorted and shook his head. ‘Never could figure out whether I was more impressed or disturbed by that. He was able to turn his emotions off like he had a switch inside his head.’

‘And you?’

‘Me?’ Lehnsherr was silent for a minute. ‘Well – I just do what I always do. I get angry.’

*****

_‘Sonofabitch,’ Erik muttered, his fists clenching at his sides. ‘We need to find this bastard, Charles. We need to find him and fucking **gut** him.’_

_‘Yes to the first, no to the second,’ Charles mumbled distractedly. He was crouched down next to the body, frowning at the jagged wounds that had been cut into the flesh. His momentary bout of nausea seemed to have disappeared: in its place was just clinical, cold practicality. Out of the corner of his eye, Erik noticed the disturbed looks that the uniformed officers at the scene were giving his partner. He scowled and deliberately stepped forward so as to shield Charles from their sight. It wasn’t that he cared what they thought – it was just that he cared what Charles thought about what they thought._

_He needn’t have worried, however. Charles, it was clear, couldn’t care less, focused as he was on the task at hand._

_‘Rigor shows that he’s been here for at least twelve hours,’ Charles murmured, studying the stiff set of the victim’s fingers. ‘Although obviously it’s a little hard to tell at the moment, what with the all the … coverings.’_

_Erik’s lip curled and he cast another look at the corpse. His hands immediately balled into fists and he was forced to look away before he did something foolish out of sheer helpless fury._

_‘How did he die?’ he asked instead, even though he was relatively sure he knew the answer._

_Charles sighed. ‘Blood loss,’ he said unhappily, sitting back on his heels and looking at the body sadly. ‘In all probability. The blood flow indicates that the victim was—’ he hesitated. ‘—that he was alive at the time of his flaying.’_

_Erik turned away, feeling his blood thrum angrily through his veins. ‘ **Fuck** ,’ he hissed, allowing his fury to fan the flames of the ever-present rage that festered inside him. ‘What the hell is this, Charles? What is – what’s the **point**?’_

_Charles slowly rose to his feet in one strangely graceful move, his eyes never moving away from the scene in front of him. ‘I don’t know,’ he said grimly, his eyes still fixed on the poor, wretched corpse before him. ‘But whatever it is, there’s probably going to be a lot more of it coming.’_

*****

‘So the killer’s message was immediately apparent to you when you saw Munoz’s body?’

‘Well, yes,’ Xavier looked surprised by the question. ‘It was rather obvious, you know.’

‘Not to some of us,’ Levine muttered, his hands over his chest as he slouched in his seat.

Xavier, sitting straight with one leg draped elegantly over the other, simply raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’ he asked vaguely. ‘How unfortunate for you.’

Levine bristled at that but MacTaggert impatiently waved him off.

‘So you were able to tell what it was the killer was trying to say right from the start?’ she asked sceptically. ‘That there could be absolutely no question about what his message was?’

‘Well, yes. But then I suppose that it was the murders that followed that really brought it home,’ Xavier’s voice was low, pensive. ‘The message, I mean. About how little truly separates man from the beasts. And I’m not talking about the victims here, regardless of what the crime scenes were intended to show. I’m talking about _him_.’ Here Xavier leaned forward, his eyes sparking with a sudden vivid intelligence. ‘Forget DNA and genome sequences for the moment, Detectives, forget even appearance. What I’m talking about here is _conscience_. Conscience and _consciousness_. Because really – _that’s_ what truly separates mankind from the animals, isn’t it? Our ability to know and understand and forge connections with each other and to feel _regret_ and guilt and remorse …’ Xavier drifted off for a moment before coming back to himself. ‘And so the very thing that separates man from the animals is also what separates our murderer from the rest of mankind. It has its own irony, don’t you think?’ Xavier paused, musing. ‘That, in trying to convey how little his victims are separated from our animal cousins, our murderer really showed us how little _he_ is separated from the beasts.’ Xavier hummed, reflective. ‘It actually has its own beauty, if you think about it – in a cyclical kind of way.’

MacTaggert and Levine, who had sat through Xavier’s monologue in silence, shared a look that perfectly mirrored the one on the other’s face.

‘And you, Mr. Xavier?’ MacTaggert asked delicately, keeping her face impassive. ‘Those things that you spoke about … regret and guilt and remorse … do _you_ feel them? About the Munoz case?’

Xavier was silent for a moment as regarded Detective MacTaggert, his expression unreadable as he took a sip from his wine glass. ‘Everybody has regrets,’ he said at last, setting his glass down lightly. ‘And everybody feels guilty about something or the other. I’m not alone in that.’

‘That wasn’t what she asked,’ Levine grunted, watching Xavier through narrowed eyes.

Xavier raised an eyebrow and levelled Levine with a thoroughly unimpressed look. ‘I was getting there,’ he said coolly. He then sighed and turned to Detective MacTaggert. ‘Honestly?’ he said, shrugging. ‘Yes, I suppose I do. It’s hard not to, when looking back retrospectively. Would I have done things differently if I knew then what I know now? Yes, of course I would. But then, that’s true of everything. Would I have skipped breakfast yesterday if I had known that I wouldn’t have time for lunch that afternoon? No, I wouldn’t have. But then yesterday, skipping breakfast seemed like a perfectly serviceable option for me if I wanted to avoid being stuck in a traffic jam all morning, which is what would have happened if I had stopped to eat before leaving. 

‘So, you see, your question really is rather pointless, Detective MacTaggert. What’s done is done, and unless you possess powers of precognition or time travel, then there’s really no point in asking me about it. _Everything_ looks different when it’s in the past, but at the time you can only do what you think is best.’ Xavier sighed then and glanced away, reaching again for his wine glass. ‘Honestly, I try not to think about the past too much, especially in cases like these. Once you go there it’s hard to get back out. Leads to all sorts of … complications.’ Here he smiled wryly and took a deliberate sip of his wine. ‘You see, I consider myself a scientific man, Detective MacTaggert, and after long and careful consideration and repeated experimentation, do you know what I have found?’ He waited until MacTaggert had shaken her head before continuing. ‘Feeling guilty? Having regrets? It changes absolutely _nothing_.’

*****

_‘You’re such an **asshole** , Charles!’ Raven shouted, glaring at him hatefully._

_Charles didn’t so much as twitch in the face of her anger. ‘Why?’ he asked coolly. ‘Because I refuse to see you physically hurt or emotionally damaged?’_

_‘Because you’re a controlling **bastard** who has no right to interfere in my life and who can’t get it in his head that I am old enough to do what I want!’ Raven snarled._

_Still Charles remained unmoved. ‘I’m your brother,’ he said patiently. ‘Your **older** brother. I believe that that does, in fact, give me the right to “interfere in your life” as you so put it.’_

_‘Oh fuck you,’ Raven snapped. ‘You’re such a fucking hypocrite! **You** became a police officer! Why the hell can’t I?’_

_‘Because it would ruin you,’ Charles said bluntly, folding his arms over his chest. ‘Because I don’t want you to see the things that I see and I don’t want you to get hurt the way I see so many of the people that I work with get hurt. Because, believe it or not, I **love** you, Raven.’_

_‘Don’t,’ Raven glared at him. ‘Don’t you dare. You don’t get to say things like that, not after what you just did.’_

_‘I was trying to **help** you—’_

_‘You had me banned from taking the police entrance exam!’ Raven hissed, incensed. ‘What you did was **so** fucking out of order, Charles, I can’t even **believe** that you would try to justify this!’_

_‘I am justifying it,’ Charles said coolly. ‘And I don’t regret it. You’re my **sister** , Raven. My **baby** sister. You must know that I would do anything to protect you.’_

_‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Charles,’ Raven groaned. ‘I’m not a **baby**. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep treating me like I’m five years old!’_

_Charles didn’t say anything._

_‘You don’t **see** it!’ Raven stared at him helplessly. ‘I’m not a **child**! Why can’t you see it?’ She suddenly turned to the corner of the room where Erik was standing quietly, observing everything but making no move to interfere. ‘ **Tell** him, Erik – **tell** him! He’ll listen to you! Tell him!’_

_But Erik didn’t move._

_Tears welling in her eyes from frustration, Raven turned back to Charles, her hands balled into fists. ‘You had no right to do what you did,’ she said in tight voice. ‘And you **cannot** keep treating me like a child. You can’t. I won’t allow it. I mean it, Charles. I – I won’t allow you to do that.’_

_With one last betrayed look at her brother, she turned and swept out of the room._

_The moment she was out of sight, the calm façade departed from Charles’s face and his shoulders slumped._

_‘Fuck,’ he muttered under his breath._

_Erik didn’t say anything._

_‘Well, go on then,’ Charles said bitterly. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You may as well say it out loud.’_

_Erik didn’t speak straight away. When he did, his tone was completely neutral. ‘You’re an idiot,’ he said simply._

_Charles’s jaw tightened. ‘Glad you were able to get that out of your system.’_

_Erik shrugged. ‘It’s only the truth.’_

_‘Well?’ Charles asked when Erik didn’t continue. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything else? Aren’t you going to tell me that it’s wrong to make her hide herself away from the world just because I’m scared to let her face up to how horrifying human beings can be?’_

_‘Looks like you’re doing a pretty good job of that yourself,’ Erik said dryly, leaning back against the wall and looking at Charles. ‘I don’t think you need me to tell you what you already know.’_

_Charles sighed and rubbed at his face. ‘I suppose you think I was wrong?’_

_Erik didn’t say anything._

_Charles was silent for a moment. ‘You think I should let her do what she wants, don’t you?’ he said at last, his voice quiet._

_‘I don’t think you’re doing either one of you any favours by keeping her from doing what she wants,’ Erik replied equably. ‘And – frankly? – I think that you’re underestimating her. She’s right when she says that you treat her like a child. You may not see it, Charles, but she’s a grown woman. It’s time you started treating her like one.’_

_Charles simply shook his head. ‘I can’t help it, my friend,’ he said sadly. ‘To allow her to do this … it goes against every single instinct of mine. She may hate me for it, Erik, but I will never stop doing everything I can to protect her.’_

_‘And I’m not saying that you shouldn’t,’ Erik said evenly._

_Charles huffed out a laugh. ‘No,’ he said, his tone dry. ‘You’re just saying that I’m doing it **wrong**.’ _

_Glancing up, their eyes met and they both shared a smile._

_‘Come on,’ Charles said with a brief nudge to Erik’s side, ‘I’ll get us a drink.’ He gave Erik a wry look. ‘I don’t know about you, but I suddenly find myself very thirsty.’_

_Erik didn’t say anything, He simply nodded and followed Charles out of the room._

*****

‘Let me get to the point, Mr. Lehnsherr,’ MacTaggert said firmly. ‘Do you believe that the events in your personal life and your relationships with Mr. Xavier and his sister affected your investigation into the Creed murders?’

Lehnsherr took a moment to think this over. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘No, I don’t think it did. Whatever you might say about us – whatever you might say about _Charles_ – and I know what sort of things they say, Detectives – I can only say that he was nothing short of professional during the course of our investigation.’ He frowned. ‘Maybe _too_ professional. Once he was on the job he thought of nothing else. _Compartmentalising_ – that’s what he called it. He put everything into tiny little boxes in his head and filed them away for later. He was good at that, Charles was. We could have been seconds away from tearing each other’s throats out in the car but the moment we stepped out of there and into a crime scene it was like it had all disappeared. Gone, like it had never happened.’

‘Did you often find yourselves seconds away from tearing each others’ throats out?’ Levine asked with deceptive mildness.

Lehnsherr’s shoulders rose in a lazy shrug. ‘You’ve met the both of us,’ was all he said. ‘What do you think?’

*****

_‘Godammit, Charles,’ Erik snarled, gripping onto Charles’s arm and digging his fingers in. ‘I **told** you to **call** me if you had a lead.’_

_‘You’re here now, aren’t you?’ Charles answered lightly, clearly unconcerned by Erik’s anger._

_‘No thanks to you,’ Erik grunted, looking unhappy. ‘What were you thinking, doing this alone? There’s a reason that we have partners, Charles, and it’s not just so that we can take turns driving.’_

_‘You worry too much,’ Charles said carelessly, shrugging. ‘All I did was talk to some very nice young ladies and ask a few questions about our vic. It was hardly dangerous.’_

_‘Hookers, Charles. You asked some very nice young **hookers**.’_

_‘To each his own,’ Charles said easily. ‘Just because they were hookers doesn’t mean that they weren’t nice.’_

_‘I bet,’ Erik said grumpily. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. ‘Did you at least take your gun this time?’ he demanded, although his tone made it very clear that he didn’t have high hopes for the answer._

_Charles gave him a look. ‘You know I don’t like wearing it,’ he said reproachfully. ‘And I was hardly going to need it.’_

_Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘Clearly you don’t know a lot about hookers,’ he said dryly._

_Charles raised his own eyebrows in return. ‘If you say so.’_

_Erik glared at him. ‘Do you at least have it on you now?’_

_Charles looked out of the window._

_Erik let out a sigh. ‘Clearly you don’t know a lot about strip clubs, either,’ he muttered, rubbing at his forehead tiredly._

_Charles didn’t answer but, after a moment’s silence, he opened the door of the car and began to head towards the building situated a little way ahead of them._

_Erik let out a hissed breath before pushing his own door open and climbing out of the car, hurrying forwards to catch up with Charles before he could go much further. ‘So. Tell me again,’ he said curtly. ‘Why are we here?’_

_‘Angel Salvadore,’ Charles replied crisply, without a hitch in his stride._

_Erik gave a slow nod. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘So you think the Salvadore case is definitely related to the Munoz one, then?’_

_‘I think it’s almost certain,’ Charles said grimly. ‘Nobody saw it back then – how could they? – but now, after Munoz … well, now it’s all but definite.’ He let out a tired sigh. ‘That’s one of the beauties of hindsight, I suppose – things that at first seem completely unique and unrelated tend to take on quite a different meaning when looked at in a different context. And in this context,’ Charles’s face suddenly shadowed, ‘Well – in this context, it means something quite unfortunate.’_

_‘We have a serial killer,’ Erik said tightly, feeling his heart sink._

_‘We have a serial killer,’ Charles confirmed, his tone equally grave._

_‘Fuck.’_

_‘Quite.’_

_‘How did we miss this?’ Erik demanded, shaking his head. ‘The Salvadore case was unusual enough – why didn’t anyone go deeper? Why was it closed?’_

_Charles shrugged. ‘For the usual reasons, I suppose,’ he said tiredly. ‘A mixture of ignorance and incompetence. And – like I said – we have the benefit of hindsight. Things couldn’t have been so obvious back then.’ He cocked his head and studied Erik. ‘You can’t blame the officers in charge, Erik. How could they have understood? How could they have known that this was the work of a serial killer? There **wasn’t** a series at the time – there was no pattern.’_

_‘She had the skin of her back carved in the shape of wings,’ Erik snarled. ‘The flesh cut from her body. And they thought it was **self-inflicted**!’_

_Charles grimaced at that. ‘Yes, that was something of a stretch,’ he said wryly. ‘But again – it was the product of unfortunate circumstances and coincidences. The girl’s name **was** Angel – they thought she was making some sort of a statement. Add that to the fact that she had a history of depression and top it off with the fact she was a stripper – well, they saw what they wanted to see. The officers at the time didn’t **want** to face the fact that there might have been more to it, that it was anything more than the actions of a depressed, mentally-ill girl – and who could blame them, really? The thought of a serial-killer going around is not an easy one to stomach, and the fact that there were no more victims found …’_

_‘Stop making excuses for them, Charles,’ Erik snapped angrily. ‘This wasn’t just the product of incompetence – it’s the product of complete **indifference** as well. They thought that no one would care about a dead **stripper** and so what did it matter if they wrote it off as a suicide? Do you think this would have happened if it had been a white, middle-class girl who had been murdered? They wouldn’t have been so quick to write it off then, the apathetic, corner-cutting, incompetent **fucks**.’_

_‘I won’t argue with you,’ Charles said tiredly. ‘Because you’re right. Of course you are. It’s the same all over, Erik. Nobody cares about the minorities – the poor, the immigrants, the homosexuals, the **different** … Nobody wants to hear about them. And this killer – our murderer – he takes advantage of that fact. He’s deliberately targeted those people who are unlikely to be noticed – how else do you explain the fact that we haven’t heard of any other victims before now?’_

_‘You think there are more?’ Erik demanded suddenly alert. ‘More that we don’t know about?’_

_‘I’m certain of it,’ Charles said soberly. ‘It’s been a good few months since the Salvadore case, but look how far he’s come. Look how – how **sophisticated** the Munoz murder is in comparison. There’s no way that those two were his only two kills, Erik. There **has** to be more … we’re just missing the ones in between.’_

_‘Hmm,’ Erik looked troubled. ‘I think you might be right.’ He then gave Charles a sideways glance. ‘You might want to watch that you don’t go calling murders “sophisticated” in front of anyone else, though, Charles. They all think you’re weird enough as it is without thinking you’re some kind of murder fetishist.’_

_Charles wrinkled his nose up at that. ‘I’ll … keep that in mind.’_

_‘Good,’ Erik nodded. Then he raised an eyebrow. ‘Are we going inside the strip club or are we just going to wait out here all day?’_

_Charles smirked. ‘Someone’s eager,’ he murmured, before he once more started striding forward._

_Erik watched him for a few seconds before shaking his head and following._

*****

‘If you don’t mind me saying so, Mr. Lehnsherr, you and Mr. Xavier don’t seem to be very much alike.’

Lehnsherr let out an amused snort at that. ‘Really?’ he asked dryly. ‘What was your first clue?’

‘What my colleague means to say,’ MacTaggert stepped in smoothly, ‘is that you both seem to have had very different styles when it came to managing investigations.’

Lehnsherr nodded. ‘That is correct.’

‘Your investigative style was more ordered and straightforward, while Mr. Xavier’s was …’ MacTaggert paused, searching for the appropriate word.

‘A complete fucking mess?’ Lehnsherr offered wryly.

‘Well, I was going to go with _unusual_ , but yes, I suppose that works too.’

Lehnsherr snorted at that but didn’t say anything else, so MacTaggert continued.

‘Things couldn’t have been easy, considering that the two of you had such distinctive and differing styles …’ MacTaggert’s expression was sympathetic. ‘Tell me – did the two of you ever experience any … _conflict_ when it came to investigating a crime?’

‘Conflict?’ Lehnsherr raised a lazy eyebrow. ‘Why yes,’ he said slowly, ‘I would say that we did.’

Levine leaned forward. ‘And how frequently did such conflicts occur, would you say?’

Lehnsherr paused to consider. ‘Well,’ he said after a long moment, his face screwed up in an approximation of the deepest concentration. ‘If I remember correctly, then I would probably have to say … every single fucking day.’

MacTaggert and Levine stared.

‘Seriously?’ Levine was unable to stop himself from asking. ‘Every day?’

‘And yet you were partners for …’ MacTaggert glanced down at her file.

‘Three years, seven months and eight days,’ Lehnsherr said smoothly, expression not so much as flickering when both MacTaggert and Levine turned to look at him in surprise. ‘What can I say?’ he shrugged. ‘He was the longest-running partner I ever had.’

‘So you liked him, then?’ MacTaggert asked cautiously.

Lehnsherr’s eyes glinted as he shrugged and brought his cigarette to his mouth. ‘I didn’t dislike him,’ he said evenly. ‘Which is more than I can say for the rest of the idiots that I’ve been saddled with in my time.’

‘And what about the rest of your department?’ Levine asked curiously, his eyes not moving away from Lehnsherr’s. ‘Did they like Xavier?’

Lehnsherr did not answer immediately. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I can’t say that they did.’ He huffed out a dry laugh then. ‘It’s not often that I am the one that is better liked, I can tell you. Charles …’ he chose his words carefully. ‘Charles was good at making friends,’ he said at last. ‘He just wasn’t so good at keeping them. His first day on the job had everyone shaking his hand and greeting him like an old friend. After that, though …’ Lehnsherr slowly exhaled a line of smoke. ‘After that people tended to avoid him. Said that he was – and I quote – “creepy”.’

‘And was he?’ MacTaggert was watching him closely.

Lehnsherr shrugged. ‘He was Charles,’ he said simply, as if that summed it all up. ‘He was a good detective. I never really cared what others thought. But I see how they could have come to the conclusion … He had a very intense gaze, you know. He sometimes just sat there, staring at you, without saying a word. Quite unnerving, for most people. Looked as if he was trying to drill into your brain and steal all your secrets. Some people believed he actually _did_ ,’ Lehnsherr snorted in amusement. ‘Charles was very perceptive, you see. He would always _know_ things … things that weren’t necessarily always apparent. It’s what made him such a good interrogator.’

‘They called him “The Professor”, I believe?’ MacTaggert murmured, consulting her notes briefly.

Lehnsherr nodded. ‘I believe they considered “The Priest”, at first,’ he said musingly. ‘Because he always got the confessions,’ he explained, when he saw Levine and MacTaggert’s blank expressions. ‘But in the end they settled on “The Professor” … probably because of the cardigans.’

‘Cardigans?’ Levine raised an eyebrow.

Lehnsherr nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, sounding amused. ‘He always did like his cardigans, Charles did. I’m sure you saw as much when you interviewed him.’

‘Xavier wasn’t wearing a cardigan when we interviewed him,’ Levine said with a frown, before grimacing at the look that MacTaggert shot him.

Lehnsherr blinked at that. ‘Huh,’ he said after a moment, his lips almost twitching. ‘That is … unexpected.’

‘You were saying about Xavier being perceptive?’ MacTaggert prompted before the conversation could derail any further.

‘Yes,’ Lehnsherr tapped the cigarette against an empty mug, watching as the ash fell away. ‘Well, Charles’s gift of perception may have been useful when dealing with criminals but, as I’m sure you can imagine, it didn’t make him the most popular person when it came to the rest of the force. He didn’t hold anything over anyone – he didn’t even do it deliberately – but that didn’t matter.’ He shrugged. ‘He scared them. People are always scared of what they can’t explain, what they can’t control, of their secrets being out in the open. And with Charles, that fear turned to resentment. In the end, he didn’t really have a lot of support on the force, not even from the captain, so when things turned south …’ He trailed off, taking a long drag from his cigarette instead.

‘Must have been rough,’ MacTaggert said, non-committal.

‘I’m sure it was,’ Erik agreed, his tone light. ‘I think it must’ve got under his skin, at least at first. Charles always liked to be liked, you see. But, the thing is, he was used to it. What you need to realise is that things have _always_ been like this for Charles. Always. Ever since he was young.’

‘What—’

‘Ask Charles,’ Erik said shortly. ‘Not that he will tell you. But it’s not my story either. My point is this: did it bother him that he wasn’t well liked? Yes, of course. But he got over it. Charles is strong, you see. A lot stronger than you know. And believe me, he’s survived worse conditions than a workplace full of resentful colleagues. He knew that in the end he didn’t need friends: he had the work.’

‘And he had you,’ MacTaggert added quietly, causing Levine and Lehnsherr to turn and look at her.

Lehnsherr regarded her for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I suppose he did. For a time.’

*****

_‘Did Miss Salvadore ever mention feeling uncomfortable at any point? Maybe she felt threatened, or uneasy about one of your … customers?’_

_The manageress let out a snort at that. ‘Honey, we all feel that way about **all** of our “customers”, there’s nothing strange or unusual about that.’_

_‘Was there anyone in **particular**?’ Charles continued patiently. ‘Anyone that had ever threatened her or scared her more than others?’_

_But the woman just shook her head. ‘No, there wasn’t. I told you boys that last year and I’m telling it to you now. This was just another random, senseless killing and our girl was the one to suffer for it.’_

_‘You don’t believe that Angel took her own life then?’ Erik asked immediately._

_The woman snorted. ‘That’s what they told us, sure, but I don’t believe it, not for a second. I **knew** Angel, and she was as strong as they come. She wouldn’t have gone and killed herself. I might not know what happened to her, but I know that much.’_

_They questioned her for a moment longer but everything she told them had already been said before and it had all been written down in the police report. There was nothing more to say._

_Just as Charles and Erik were turning away, however, the woman spoke up once more._

_‘There is one more thing,’ she said, looking conflicted._

_Erik and Charles turned to her._

_‘There’s … there may be someone you should speak to.’_

_Five minutes later, and a small, shy girl was ushered into the room, her long ponytail swaying gently behind her as she entered._

_‘You wanted to speak to me?’ she asked nervously, stepping forward. She was wearing a large grey hoodie that swamped her tiny figure and the sleeves were pulled over her hands. ‘About – about Angel?’_

_Charles exchanged a look with Erik, who was frowning at the sight of her._

_‘Yes,’ Charles said smoothly, giving her a warm smile and a nod. ‘If you wouldn’t mind. Your name is …?’_

_‘Kitty,’ the girl said and then blushed. ‘Well, that’s my – well, I’m Katherine but everyone knows me as Kitty around here.’_

_‘Kitty, then,’ Charles said carefully, giving her another smile._

_The girl returned his smile cautiously. ‘It sounds different when you say it.’_

_‘It’s the accent,’ Charles said confidingly, which earned him another smile. He then sobered and, with a glance at Erik, he leaned forward. ‘Kitty, your manager has told us that there may be something that you could tell us about Angel Salvadore … something that wasn’t recorded the first time around.’_

_Kitty shuffled her feet before nodding. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I think I can.’_

_‘Why didn’t you come forward before now?’ Erik demanded sharply, apparently unable to keep quiet._

_Kitty looked at him nervously for a moment before shrugging. ‘I wasn’t exactly … old enough to be here,’ she said awkwardly, looking at the ground. ‘I know it’s not been long, but back then I didn’t – I was young and I was stupid and I didn’t want to be taken away from the other girls. I’m sorry.’_

_Erik studied her. ‘You don’t look **old enough** to be here **now** either,’ he grunted out, frowning down at her. _

_‘Oh, I’m legal,’ Kitty said quickly, and then blushed and glanced back down at her feet._

_‘Could you tell us more about what happened with Angel Salvadore, please, Kitty?’ Charles interrupted smoothly, smiling at Kitty encouragingly. ‘Did you know her well?’_

_Kitty hesitated, shooting a wary glance at Erik, before turning to Charles. ‘Y-es,’ she said, at last sounding slightly apprehensive. ‘I – I was friends with Angel. We used to talk a lot. She – she took care of me, when I first started here.’_

_Charles and Erik shared a glance._

_‘What sort of things did you used to talk about, Kitty?’ Charles asked, his tone still soft and pleasant._

_Kitty shrugged. ‘Normal stuff, really. Girl talk, the guys at the club, work … things like that.’_

_‘Angel never told you about anything unusual? Anyone who made her feel scared or threatened?’_

_Kitty shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, her brow furrowing. ‘Not – not exactly. But she changed, sort of, right before – **before**.’_

_‘Changed?’ Erik leaned forward. ‘What do you mean?’_

_‘Well,’ Kitty said slowly, ‘A few weeks … **before** … she suddenly joined this – this group.’_

_‘Group?’ Erik asked intently. ‘What sort of group? Like a cult?’_

_‘Maybe?’ Kitty looked uncertain. ‘She didn’t talk about it all that much. She tried to keep it secret, but – but we were close.’ Kitty’s expression drooped. ‘She couldn’t keep it secret from me for very long so she told me that she had found a place where she could finally be herself, where she could spread her wings and be free.’_

_‘Free?’ Charles asked attentively._

_‘Yeah,’ Kitty nodded. ‘Free from all **this**.’ She gestured around at the dingy room. ‘She was tired of this life and she wanted more from it. She said that her new friends could help her escape from all this.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘She said that it could help **us** escape.’_

_‘She wanted to take you with her?’ Charles asked quietly._

_Kitty nodded. ‘She said that she would check it out first, that she would make sure that it was all safe.’ Her lip trembled. ‘And then, when she knew it was alright, she was going to take me and we’d get out of here and have a better life.’_

_Charles grimaced at that, while Erik clenched his fists._

_‘Obviously that didn’t happen,’ Kitty rubbed at her eyes. ‘I thought it would – and so did she, I think – but then she met **him**.’_

_Both Erik and Charles immediately went on alert._

_‘Him?’ Charles asked gently, trying not to press her too hard. ‘Who is he?’_

_Kitty shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, sounding slightly upset. ‘Angel never said much about him. All I knew was that he scared her.’ She wiped her nose. ‘He really, really scared her.’_

_‘Did she ever tell you his name?’ Charles asked, trying to suppress the urgency he was feeling._

_‘No,’ Kitty said unhappily. ‘I don’t think that even she knew who he was. I remember once, though, she was talking about him and I don’t think that I was supposed to hear, but – she called him the strangest name.’_

_‘Name?’ Erik pressed, his expression tight._

_‘Yes,’ Kitty was frowning, her expression screwed up in concentration. ‘Maybe I’m remembering it wrong, but it was just so strange, you know?’_

_‘Kitty,’ Charles said patiently, resting a calming hand on Erik’s tense arm. ‘What was the name that Angel used?’_

_Kitty bit her lip. ‘The Black King,’ she said at last, her voice a whisper. ‘She called him the Black King.’_

*****

‘How do you think the other officers at the station felt about you, Mr. Xavier?’

Xavier tilted his head and considered the question. ‘They tolerated me,’ he said after a moment.

Levine’s eyebrows went up. ‘Tolerated?’ he repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘That sure doesn’t sound very friendly.’

Xavier’s own eyebrows rose in return. ‘Yes,’ he agreed, his tone bland. ‘Hence the use of the word “ _tolerated_ ”.

Levine narrowed his eyes.

‘Why do you think that is, Mr. Xavier?’ Moira asked, watching him closely. ‘Was there any reason for this attitude towards you?’

Xavier thought this over. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I suppose there was.’ He then shrugged. ‘I suppose they didn’t like that I was more intelligent than they were.’

Moira paused. ‘Excuse me?’ she said, blinking.

Xavier sighed. ‘I don’t say it to be rude, you understand,’ he said with the tiniest hint of apology in his tone. ‘I am merely stating a simple fact, and the fact is, almost everyone in that station was only of an average intelligence.’

‘Uh huh?’ Levine was staring at him, incredulous.

‘That by no means precluded me from forming a friendship with any of them, of course,’ Xavier continued, unperturbed, ‘But the fact is that none of them particularly caught my interest, so I didn’t really feel the need to try. Besides, I was far too different from most of them. I’m sure you’ve thought so yourself,’ his eyes lingered on Levine. ‘That I was not the sort of person that you expected to become a police officer.’

‘Why _did_ you become a police officer, Mr. Xavier?’ Moira asked before Levine could make a snide response.

Xavier shrugged. ‘Idealism, I suppose,’ he said vaguely, considering. ‘The desire to shock my mother too, I think. She didn’t think very much of law-enforcement.’ There was a note of satisfaction in his words.

‘So you didn’t do it for the camaraderie?’ Levine said dryly.

Xavier smiled. ‘Not especially,’ he said. ‘Camaraderie, as you say, wasn’t really on my list of requirements just then. I find it … difficult to maintain friendships, you see.’

Levine snorted.

Xavier carried on. ‘I’d done that sort of thing before, you know,’ he continued, oblivious. ‘Trying with the friends and the effort and the pleasantries and all that. When I was at university. Perhaps I would have done it again, had I not met Erik. But I did, and after that I didn’t feel like it was necessary to pander to others.’ 

‘Did Lehnsherr have friends on the force?’ Moira asked, curious.

‘He was respected,’ Xavier said diplomatically. ‘And people looked up to him. I wouldn’t say that he had friends – he wasn’t the sort, you see, and he was never “one of the boys”, as the expression goes – but they valued him even so.’

‘But they didn’t feel the same about you?’

Xavier shrugged. ‘I only have myself to blame for that,’ he said, sounding thoroughly unrepentant. ‘I never made any particular efforts to make them like me. I often wonder now if that was a mistake,’ he said slowly, looking thoughtful. ‘Things might have gone a lot more smoothly if I had taken the time to get them to like me instead of resigning myself to their dislike. It’s not like it would have been hard, after all. If I had wanted them to like me then I could have made them.’

‘Oh really?’ Levine snorted. Even Moira looked sceptical.

‘It’s true,’ Charles said, shrugging. ‘People are herd animals. A group’s opinions of an individual are generally based on other people’s reactions to them. All you need to do is let one person warm up to you. Show one person a tiny little chink in your armour, and people will be much more willing to side with you.’ He paused. ‘At least in theory,’ he admitted.

‘So why didn’t you?’ Moira asked curiously, tilting her head. ‘Why didn’t you ever attempt that?’

Charles smiled. ‘I didn’t need to,’ he said simply. ‘I had Erik.’


	3. Chapter 3

‘You appear to have had difficulties with Mr. Xavier during your time as partners, Mr. Lehnsherr.’

Lehnsherr regarded Moira narrowly. ‘Define difficulties.’

‘Well – differences of opinion.’

Lehnsherr snorted. ‘That’s something that everyone experiences,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘You work with someone day after day, you’re bound to get on each other’s nerves a little.’ His eyes drifted from Levine to Moira and he raised a pointed eyebrow. Moira’s expression did not change but Lehnsherr still smirked before continuing. ‘Sure, Charles was a pain in the ass,’ he acknowledged with a shrug. ‘But that’s the way it was and I accepted that.’

‘So you never argued about anything serious?’

‘Before the end?’ Lehnsherr considered for a moment and then shook his head. ‘No, not really. You don’t believe me?’ He raised an eyebrow at the Detectives’ bland expressions. ‘I’m sure you’ve looked at our records. Neither of us ever made a complaint against the other. I’m sure you found that our pretty quickly.’

‘Very few complaints actually become official,’ Moira replied, shrugging unrepentantly. ‘I had to check.’ She then raised her chin. ‘You ever think about requesting a transfer, Mr. Lehnsherr?’

Lehnsherr shook his head. ‘No.’ 

Moira and Levine remained silent.

Lehnsherr glanced between the two of them and then sighed. ‘Charles was a good detective,’ he said, sounding bored by their scepticism. ‘More than good, in fact – he was excellent. I’d had enough sub-standard partners by that time to recognise how rare that was, so believe me – I wasn’t going to trade him in any time soon.’

‘Would you say that he was a better detective than you were?’ MacTaggert asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Lehnsherr was silent for a moment. ‘He was haphazard,’ he said at last. ‘And messy and arrogant and could not follow orders if his life depended on it.’

‘And yet …’ MacTaggert prompted.

‘And yet …’ Lehnsherr sighed. ‘And yet I would say that yes – when it came down to it, when it came to stripping away all the damn bureaucracy and show – then yes. Charles _was_ a better detective than I was.’

‘Why is that, do you think?’

Lehnsherr regarded Moira coolly for a moment before answering. ‘Charles has something that I don’t,’ he said calmly, slowly crossing one knee over the other.

‘And what’s that?’ MacTaggert asked curiously.

Lehnsherr blinked once and then shrugged. ‘Imagination,’ he said, and brought his cigarette to his lips.

*****

_‘Whatever this is, it’s bigger than we expected,’ Charles said thoughtfully, chewing on his lower lip as Erik drove them away from the strip club. He flicked through an old, cheap diary that Kitty had shyly handed over to him, having carefully secreted it away amongst her own belongings, and he now squinted down at Angel’s sprawling handwriting, the words frequently crossed out and nearly crawling off the pages, frowning as he tried to read them. ‘From what I can tell it sounds like there’s more than one person involved. Kitty said she joined a **group** , Erik – an entire **group**.’ He paused for a moment, looking out of the window with a frown. ‘How big do you think a “group” is?’ he mused idly. ‘Would you say it’s larger than a cluster? Smaller than a gathering? It’s definitely smaller than a cult …’_

_‘It’s **irrelevant** ,’ Erik interrupted him sharply before he could go any further. ‘You’re operating on guesswork, Charles. It means nothing. You and I both know that the girl knows nothing about this – everything she told us was pure hearsay. This damned cult of yours might not even have had anything to do with Salvadore’s murder.’_

_‘We’re not sure it’s a **cult** , Erik,’ Charles murmured reproachfully, even as he came to a stop in a page of Angel’s diary covered with the words **The Black King** over and over again, and then, just once, the word **Genosha**. ‘But I think we can safely say that there’s some link between it and Angel Salvadore’s death. It would be the most incredible coincidence if there wasn’t.’_

_‘Right,’ Erik said sarcastically, ‘because coincidences **never** happen.’_

_‘On the contrary,’ Charles said lightly. ‘They happen all the time. Hence their being coincidences. This, however …’ Charles’s expression darkened and he gazed down at the diary in his hands. ‘All this about the Black King … I don’t like the sound of this, Erik. I don’t like it at all.’_

_‘The girl probably heard it wrong,’ Erik said dismissively, scowling at the road. ‘I wouldn’t pay too much attention to it – she herself said that she couldn’t be sure of what she heard.’_

_‘And if she isn’t?’ Charles pressed. ‘If she heard correctly?’_

_‘Then maybe they were talking about chess pieces,’ Erik snapped. ‘Maybe Angel Salvadore joined a **chess** club.’_

_Charles turned to him with a raised eyebrow. ‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’_

_Erik gave him a look. ‘Of course not,’ he said gruffly. ‘But it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. It’s just as likely as your theory of a criminal mastermind, for a start. What, are you going to tell me that that’s not what you were thinking?’ he asked in challenge._

_Charles shrugged. ‘I was thinking more on the lines of a criminal organisation …’ he murmured implacably._

_Erik let out a curse. ‘Christ,’ he muttered. ‘Why the hell did I get saddled with _you_ as a partner? You can’t just **make things up** , Charles. You have absolutely no evidence of any of this. There’s no **logic** to it!’_

_‘Like there was logic to those killings?’ Charles asked quietly. ‘Like the logic that saw Armando Munoz and Angel Salvadore and god knows how many others killed?’_

_Erik bit his tongue and glared out of the front window of the car. ‘There was some logic to it,’ he said at last, not meeting Charles’s eyes. ‘I’m not saying it’s any form of sane, decent logic, but it’s logic nonetheless. We just don’t know what it is yet.’_

_‘The logic of a madman is hardly logic,’ Charles said quietly, but he didn’t say anything further._

_Erik sighed. ‘Then we’ll just have to agree to disagree,’ he said resignedly, pressing down hard on the accelerator._

_Charles smiled at that and turned to face him. ‘Oh my friend,’ he said fondly, ‘Don’t we always?’_

*****

‘Take me again through your process, Mr. Xavier. What happened after you interviewed Ms. Salvadore’s … associates?’

Xavier raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s all there in the report, Detective. I’m sure you must have read it.’

‘Nevertheless, I would like to hear it in your own words, please,’ Moira said, unfazed.

Xavier made a face. ‘Yes well … I’m afraid my memory has been rather fuzzy as of late,’ he said apologetically. ‘You _are_ asking me about things that happened a decade ago, you know.’ He sighed. ‘I am afraid that I will not be the most reliable of narrators. You really would be much better off sticking to the report.’

‘Afraid that you’ll screw up, Xavier?’ Levine demanded, his eyes narrowed. ‘Worried that you’ll say something incriminating?’

Xavier turned to him with a raised eyebrow. ‘Incriminating?’ he repeated, his tone laced with scorn even as his expression remained open and guileless. ‘What a curious notion. How ever would I incriminate myself, Mr. Levine?’

‘You tell me,’ Levine grunted. ‘And it’s _Detective_ Levine to you.’

Xavier smiled. ‘My mistake,’ he said mildly, looking highly amused. ‘I seem to find that difficult to remember. Now you, Detective MacTaggert,’ Xavier turned to her with a smile that was a shade warmer. ‘I appear to have no trouble remembering _your_ title.’

‘What’s that supposed—’ Levine began but Moira was already speaking. 

‘Forgive me for saying so,’ she said dryly, ignoring Levine. ‘But you don’t seem to have a lot of respect for the members of your former profession, Mr. Xavier.’

Xavier looked up in surprise. ‘Oh, but I do,’ he said, looking genuinely astonished. ‘I generally have a great deal of respect for the police, I promise you.’ 

‘Generally?’ Moira repeated shrewdly.

Xavier’s responding smile was slow and thin. ‘Yes,’ he said, his tone wry. ‘It’s not the profession that I don’t respect, you see, Detective. It’s the _individuals_ that I have a problem with.’

*****

_‘Thank you for seeing us, Detective Dukes,’ Charles said politely. ‘I know you must be very busy right now.’_

_Erik gave Charles a dry look. Detective Frederick Dukes did not **look** busy. The top of his desk was covered not in papers or folders but in empty crisp packets and doughnut wrappers, and there was powdered sugar all over the front of the man’s shirt and down his vast, frighteningly large belly. It was a wonder that the man could fit behind his desk at all._

_‘We’re always happy to help our colleagues in our sister department,’ Detective Dukes said vaguely, even though his sullen expression directly contradicted his words. ‘How may I help you, Detectives …’_

_‘Xavier and Lehnsherr,’ Charles answered amiably, although he knew the man was unlikely to remember any name more complicated than “Smith”. ‘And we are here to talk about the murder of Mr. Mortimer Toynbee. You are the detective in charge of the case, yes?’_

_‘Ah,’ Dukes heaved himself up in his seat, attempting to dust away the sugar down his front. ‘The Toynbee case. As you say.’ He then regarded Charles and Erik with a suspicious look. ‘Is there a reason why you are interested in my case, gentlemen?’ The **my** in the sentence was all too conspicuously stressed._

_Erik and Charles shared a look. ‘We believe that it links to one of our cases, Detective Dukes,’ Charles said, turning back to look at him. ‘And that it is one in a series of murders that have been taking place back in our county. You may have heard about them.’_

_‘Yeah, I think I did,’ Dukes reflected, scratching at his massive second chin. ‘Boy got skinned, is that right? I saw it on the news.’_

_Erik’s lips pressed together. ‘That would be the one,’ he said, his tone dark._

_‘And you think our boy Toynbee was another victim of that psycho?’ Dukes asked, seeming completely unaware of Erik’s darkening expression._

_‘That’s right.’_

_Dukes rubbed his chin. ‘That’s a mighty big leap you’re making there, Detective.’_

_‘Not really,’ Charles said lightly. ‘All of our victims were mutilated in some way, same as yours. It really isn’t that great a leap of logic to—’_

_‘Toynbee’s tongue was ripped out,’ Dukes interrupted him, rolling his eyes. ‘That’s hardly the same as having your skin sliced off!’_

_‘It’s not **dissimilar** ,’ Charles said cautiously._

_Dukes let out a noise of impatience. ‘That’s the problem with your kind,’ he muttered irritably, shaking his head. ‘Always thinking that there are **connections** to be made.’_

_Erik went rigid at that. ‘ **What** kind?’ he asked dangerously, his voice low, but Dukes didn’t seem to hear him. He was watching Charles instead._

_‘You know,’ he said casually. ‘You’re quite some way away from your own department, Detective.’_

_Charles’s eyebrow rose. ‘Just the next town over, Detective Dukes,’ he said easily. ‘We are in fact neighbours, of a sort.’_

_‘Still,’ Dukes continued. ‘It’s pretty strange for a murderer to suddenly start hacking people up all that distance away.’_

_Erik’s smile was thin. ‘Murderers don’t tend to have jurisdictions, Detective,’ he said coldly._

_‘No,’ Dukes agreed, his expression thoughtful. ‘But policemen do.’_

_Erik felt Charles’s back stiffen. ‘Are you saying that you will not help us, Mr. Dukes?’_

_Dukes shrugged. ‘I’m just making an observation,’ he said lazily as he leaned back in his chair, his huge stomach pressing up against the desk as he did so. His eyes narrowed. ‘And it’s **Detective** Dukes.’_

_Charles smiled thinly. ‘As you say,’ he said politely, but didn’t say anything further._

_Dukes eyed them for a moment. Then he sighed. ‘Tell you what,’ he said with exaggerated good-will. ‘Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll have the case file brought out, and you two hotshots can take a look at it – but only in here, you hear? You can’t take it out of here and you can’t make copies. This is an on-going investigation, you understand me?’_

_Erik’s jaw tightened. ‘We understand,’ he said curtly._

_Dukes studied them suspiciously with his piggish eyes before giving a nod of satisfaction and, reaching out with one massive arm, pressed down on the intercom button on his desk. ‘Allerdyce!’ he drawled. ‘Bring the Toynbee case to my office.’ There was the sound of a muttered oath before Dukes pulled his finger away from the button._

_‘He’ll be along any minute now,’ he said, gesturing at the door with a bored tone._

_Two minutes later there was a knock on the door and then in came a young officer with messy hair and a week’s worth of stubble on his face. ‘Here you go, boss,’ he muttered, dumping the file on the desk and displacing a few empty wrappers as he did so. ‘The Toynbee case.’_

_Dukes waved him over at Charles and Erik. ‘Give it to these two,’ he muttered. ‘They’re the ones who want it.’_

_Allerdyce looked at the two of them with interest, before handing the file over to Charles. ‘There you go,’ he said, smirking slightly when Charles’s hand paused over what looked suspiciously like a ketchup stain on the folder. ‘There’s not really all that much to go on. Toynbee had a few priors but it was small league stuff – shoplifting, burglary – that sort of thing.’_

_‘Cause of death?’ Erik asked, peering over to look at the case file in Charles’s hands._

_Allerdyce grimaced. ‘He choked,’ he said dryly. ‘On his own blood. From having his tongue ripped out … but I guess you guys know about that part.’_

_‘Tox screen came back clean, I see,’ Charles murmured thoughtfully. ‘But there appear to be bruises on Toybee’s wrists and around his neck, as if someone was holding him down … maybe even watching him choke.’_

_Allerdyce nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s what I figured.’ He rolled his eyes as Dukes cleared his throat. ‘Fine, what **we** figured.’ He and Erik shared a look. Allerdyce gave him a wry smile and then continued. ‘Plus there’s also bruising around his stomach and few fractured ribs in his chest. Poor guy really took a beating.’_

_‘Looks like it, doesn’t it?’ Charles murmured, turning a page in the file. He paused suddenly when he came to a strange addition in the papers. ‘What is this?’ he asked, his tone surprised._

_Even Dukes turned to look at what had caught his attention. When he saw it, he let out a guffaw of laughter. ‘ **That?** ’ he snickered. ‘That’s an important piece of evidence there, Detective. Can’t you see that?’_

_Charles frowned and, along with Erik, turned to Allerdyce, who shrugged and gave them a wry smile._

_‘We interviewed Toynbee’s family,’ he explained almost apologetically. ‘He was staying with his sister and her daughter. The sister was out at the time but the kid was there and they both swear that Mort was there as well, looking after her.’_

_Dukes let out a snort. ‘More like she was lying her ass off so that we didn’t call social services in for leaving her kid home alone.’_

_‘How old is the child?’ Erik asked._

_‘Five,’ Dukes said._

_‘Seven,’ Allerdyce corrected. ‘The kid’s seven, and she says that Uncle Mort **was** in that night and she saw him being taken.’ He paused and gestured down at the file. ‘ **That** was a drawing that she made of the person who took him.’_

_Charles glanced down at the page in front of him. On the page was a drawing of – for all intents and purposes – the devil._

_‘She says that the devil took her uncle?’ Erik said sceptically, also staring down at the picture, his eyes lingering on the clumsy strokes of the red crayon and the addition of the long red tail with a point on the end._

_Allerdyce shrugged. ‘That’s what she said,’ he said apologetically._

_‘Why would she say that?’ Charles asked, frowning._

_‘The kid’s mother – Toynbee’s sister – is a real religious nut,’ Allerdyce said with another shrug. ‘Has about a hundred crucifixes in the house. Kid’s probably been brought up to think that all bad men look like the devil.’_

_Charles sighed. ‘It’s possible,’ he said, rubbing a hand against his face._

_‘Tell you what,’ Dukes said magnanimously, lacing his fingers over his large stomach. ‘In the spirit of cooperation, Detective, here’s what I’ll do for you.’ He gestured down to the picture with a grin. ‘That picture there that you’re so fond of? It’s yours!’_

_Charles blinked. ‘Excuse me?’ he asked, bewildered._

_Dukes’s grin grew wider. ‘Like I said,’ he smirked. ‘That picture there’s yours now. You can keep it. For your **investigation**.’_

_‘But don’t you need it?’ Charles asked, frowning. ‘If the girl was an eye-witness, then surely—’_

_‘We’ll get back to you if we ever need it, Detective,’ Dukes said condescendingly._

_Charles turned from Allerdyce, who wore a long-suffering expression on his face, to Erik, whose brow had darkened. He sighed. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, retrieving the picture from the folder and gently tucking it away into his own things. ‘We will keep it safe in case you ever have need of it.’_

_The smug expression on Dukes’s face showed just how likely he thought that was._

_‘How that man made detective I will never know,’ Erik gritted out from between his teeth fifteen minutes later, when he and Charles had finally left Dukes’s office after a thoroughly wasted morning. ‘The man is an idiot.’_

_‘He was singularly unhelpful, yes,’ Charles agreed, striding away from the building._

_Erik frowned, his expression suddenly contemplative. ‘Was he dirty, do you think?’ he asked doubtfully._

_Charles shook his head. ‘No,’ he sighed. ‘Not dirty. Just incompetent.’_

_Erik let out a snort. ‘That almost makes it **worse**.’_

_Charles smiled at that. ‘You have no patience for incompetence, do you my friend?’_

_Erik gave him a wry look. ‘Charles,’ he drawled. ‘Taking into consideration the fact that you are the first partner that I haven’t threatened to strangle yet and who hasn’t resigned after two weeks by my side – what do you think? Besides,’ he added, giving Charles a small, sideways glance. ‘It’s not as if I am the only one here who is intolerant of incompetence …’_

_Charles’s smile widened. ‘You are right of course,’ he said, shrugging. His mouth twitched. ‘I just hide it better.’_

*****

‘So I’ve been looking through your report, Mr. Xavier—’

‘Glad to hear it.’

‘Quite,’ MacTaggert gave him a thin smile. ‘And from what I can see it appears that you and Lehnsherr jumped to the serial killer theory pretty quickly.’

Xavier looked vaguely surprised. ‘Was it very quick?’ he mused, sounding thoughtful. ‘I couldn’t really say. Personally, I thought it took us quite long enough.’

‘The Salvadore case occurred months before Munoz,’ MacTaggert said calmly. ‘It wasn’t even your case. But after Munoz suddenly you’re convinced that the man you’re after is a serial killer.’

‘It wasn’t just Salvadore and Munoz,’ Xavier said sharply, before leaning back and shrugging. ‘And what can I say? I’m good at seeing patterns. That’s what it all comes down to in the end, you know. Patterns.’

‘You mean in police work?’ Levine frowned.

‘Police work,’ Xavier agreed. ‘And everything else. Life. History. People.’ He cast a glance at Levine. ‘Everyone is predictable, if you know them well enough.’

‘Thank you for that fascinating digression, Mr. Xavier.’ MacTaggert said coolly before Levine could respond. ‘It must be the hundredth you’ve made in the last hour.’ 

Xavier smiled. 

‘Now,’ MacTaggert looked down at the file in her hands. ‘If we could get back on track, we were talking about your realisation that the murders were the work of a serial killer.’ She flicked through the pages of the file. ‘It says here, Mr. Xavier, that you were interested in the Toynbee case.’

Xavier glanced over at her and then slowly nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It fit the pattern.’

‘Physical mutilations,’ MacTaggert stated, looking thoughtful. Xavier nodded. ‘And this made you believe that you had a serial killer on your hands?’

‘Actually, the idea came early on,’ Xavier admitted. ‘The Toynbee case simply confirmed what we had suspected.’

MacTaggert raised an eyebrow. ‘You can hardly call it a confirmation, Mr. Xavier,’ she said dubiously. ‘With only three cases to support your theory.’

Xavier shrugged. ‘Moscow Rules, Detective,’ he said easily. ‘You know what they say. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence …’

‘Thrice is a pattern,’ MacTaggert finished, narrowing her eyes. ‘I see. Unfortunately, Mr. Xavier, I seem to have been absent the day they taught Fleming at the academy as part of proper police protocol. Tell me, did your superior think your explanation was an acceptable one?’

‘Oh yes,’ Xavier said without hesitation. ‘McCone was a very intelligent man. He immediately understood what it was that we were up against and he gave us completely free reign with the case. He was with us from the very beginning.’

*****

_Erik and Charles shared a careful glance as they seated themselves in the chairs in front of Chief McCone. They hadn’t been particularly surprised by the summons; McCone was by nature a bureaucrat and, as the head of department, he usually brought them in every once in a while so that they could keep him updated on their current caseload._

_Since the start of the Munoz case, they had been brought in nearly five times over the last two weeks._

_‘Well?’ McCone demanded, turning to look at them. ‘What’s this about the two of you bothering other departments and treading on everyone’s toes?’_

_Charles cocked his head to the side. ‘Treading on everyone’s toes, sir?’ he asked, blinking curiously._

_McCone glared at him. ‘Don’t give me that butter-wouldn’t-melt look, Xavier,’ he growled. ‘You know very well what I am talking about.’_

_Charles’s pleasant expression remained unchanged. ‘Actually, sir, I don’t,’ he said calmly, raising his chin. ‘I don’t seem to recall bothering any other departments **or** treading on anyone’s toes.’_

_‘Because we didn’t,’ Erik said firmly, leaning forward in his chair and narrowing his eyes. ‘We didn’t **bother** anyone and we definitely didn’t tread on any damn toes.’_

_‘Well that’s not how I hear it,’ McCone said grimly, pulling out a sheet of paper and slamming it down on the desk. ‘I have a complaint from a certain Detective Dukes stating that you two made a nuisance of yourselves down at his office.’_

_Erik and Charles shared a look before Erik turned back to McCone and let out a loud and obnoxious snort. ‘If by that you mean that we forced the incompetent idiot to get up off his lazy—’_

_‘We were very polite,’ Charles interrupted smoothly, smiling at McCone when he turned narrowed eyes on him. ‘And all we did was ask to see one of his case files. That is all.’_

_‘That’s not the way he’s telling it,’ McCone said, his tone grim. ‘He says that the two of you were troublesome and abusive.’_

_‘I assure you, we were not,’ Charles said calmly, although his jaw was clenched tight. ‘We did nothing at all to warrant a complaint.’_

_‘Well Dukes says—’_

_‘Do you think we give a damn what that man says?’ Erik snapped, irritated. ‘He’s a joke, McCone. He’s stupid and lazy and incompetent and I doubt he’s done a single piece of decent detective work in his life. Are you really going to tell me that you believe his words over ours?’_

_‘I believe the two of you are a pair of troublemakers,’ McCone said with a sigh, rubbing at his face. ‘But if you say that you did nothing wrong, Erik, then I believe you.’_

_‘You don’t believe me, sir?’ Charles asked innocently._

_McCone let out a snort. ‘Oh I believe you,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But – and don’t get me wrong now, Xavier – somehow I keep finding it necessary to remind myself to take everything you say with a pinch of salt.’_

_Charles’s brow furrowed. ‘How very strange,’ he murmured, but he didn’t say anything further._

_McCone stared at him for a moment before sighing. ‘Now that that’s out the way,’ he said, sitting up in his seat, ‘Do the two of you have anything new to report? Aside from Dukes, that is.’_

_Charles and Erik shared a loaded glance. So far they had been very tight-lipped when discussing the case with McCone. Now, however, it was high past time that they let him know what was going on._

_‘We may have something,’ Erik began cautiously, glancing over at Charles who nodded. ‘But we aren’t yet sure whether it’s a tangible lead.’_

_‘We interviewed some of Salvadore’s colleagues,’ Charles explained at McCone’s enquiring look. ‘And we found—’_

_‘Wait, wait, wait,’ McCone held up a hand, interrupting. ‘Salvadore? Angel Salvadore?’_

_Erik and Charles shared a look and then nodded in unison. ‘Yes, sir.’_

_McCone stared at them, baffled. ‘What … the Salvadore case is **closed** , you boys are supposed to be working on Munoz!’_

_Charles smiled tightly. ‘Yes sir,’ he said calmly. ‘But we have reason to believe that Salvadore and Munoz were killed by the—’_

_‘Whoa there,’ McCone again held a hand up. ‘ **Killed?** Your memory must be failing you, Xavier, because the Salvadore case was ruled a **suicide**.’_

_‘Oh, I didn’t forget,’ Charles said grimly. ‘I merely disagreed.’_

_McCone’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh,’ he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘You **disagreed**. Well of course you did. I’ll just go and have the case re-opened on your say so, shall I?’_

_‘If you please,’ Charles said politely. ‘That would be very helpful.’_

_‘Well too bad,’ McCone snapped, glaring at him. ‘That case is **over** , Detective. You’re not to go poking around it any more, you hear me?’_

_‘But—’_

_‘Damn it, Xavier,’ McCone glared at him. ‘I just got off the phone with the goddamn Councilman and I personally promised him that the Munoz case was a one-off and that we’d get it closed ASAP. You wouldn’t want to make me a liar now, would you?’_

_‘Better a liar than an incom—’_

_‘Lehnsherr,’ McCone snapped. ‘Get your partner under control or so help me I’ll have you both on traffic duty for the next month.’_

_Erik didn’t say anything. He just turned to look at Charles. After a moment, Charles sighed and looked away, gesturing for Erik to take the lead._

_‘With all due respect, sir,’ Erik said in a deliberately measured tone, ‘We believe that there may be more to the Salvadore case than we previously believed.’_

_McCone raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh?’ he asked, unenthused by this notion._

_‘There are indications that Salvadore was part of some sort of group or cult. It might be that this group had some link to her death. Her **murder**.’_

_‘That’s all very well, but I don’t see what this has to do with—’_

_‘She was physically mutilated, sir,’ Erik interrupted. ‘Just like Munoz. Just like Toynbee. Just like all the others out there that we’ve yet to get to work on.’_

_McCone’s lips thinned. ‘What exactly are you trying to tell me here, Lehnsherr?’ he demanded, narrowing his eyes. ‘Just come out and say it.’_

_Erik glanced first at Charles, who nodded, before turning back to McCone. ‘I’m saying that we have a serial killer, sir,’ he said bluntly, looking McCone straight in the eye. ‘I’m saying that we think that there is a serial killer out there who is hunting and mutilating his victims, and that we think that there are going to be more.’_

_McCone stared at them. ‘… A serial killer,’ he said flatly. ‘You think that we have a goddamn **serial killer**?’_

_‘Yes sir.’_

_McCone closed his eyes and swore. ‘Damn it, what the fuck is wrong with you two?’ he demanded. He then glared at Erik. ‘I’d expect this sort of crackpot idea from Xavier, but **you** Lehnsherr? You know better than to say shit like that.’_

_‘I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t think it was true, sir,’ Erik said firmly, looking ahead and meeting McCone’s eyes. ‘It all adds up. The victims, the M.O. – it makes sense.’_

_‘To who?’ McCone grumbled, looking down at his desk and glaring at it._

_Charles and Erik exchanged a glance._

_After a moment, McCone groaned and rubbed at his eyes. ‘The press are going to have a goddamn field-day with this one,’ he muttered, looking over unhappily at the framed newspaper article on the wall of him shaking hands with the Councilman. He sighed and shook his head again. ‘A goddamn field-day,’ he muttered sadly._

_Charles and Erik shot each other a look._

_‘Does that mean you believe us, sir?’ Charles asked, sounding hopeful._

_McCone grimaced. ‘I don’t want to,’ he said flatly. ‘But it’s best to get in front of this while we can rather than have it come back and bite us in the ass in the future. No,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘We can’t ignore this. You boys follow up on this serial killer idea of yours, but – and listen close now – you keep it **quiet**. I don’t want the entire department knowing that we’re looking for a serial killer and I **definitely** don’t want the goddamn press knowing about it either. You got me?’_

_‘Yes sir,’ Erik gave a firm nod._

_‘Understood,’ Charles added, also nodding._

_McCone grunted. ‘Good,’ he said, turning back to look at the files on his desk. ‘Now get the hell out of my office and get to work on this serial killer theory of yours, and for god’s sake – get it done **quickly**. The sooner we capture this psychopath the better.’ He grimaced and turned a resentful look on the telephone on his desk. ‘Now, if you boys will excuse me, I have a phone call to make.’ He sighed. ‘And believe me when I say that the Councilman is **not** going to be happy about this.’_


	4. Chapter 4

‘Tell us about Victor Creed.’

Xavier looked up from the table, his bland expression instantly morphing into one of considerable more alertness. ‘I though that we agreed that we wouldn’t discuss that,’ he said after a pause, lacing his fingers together and smiling a too-pleasant smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Moira raised an eyebrow. ‘Not even a little?’ she asked lightly. ‘He _was_ central to the culmination of your investigation, after all, Mr. Xavier. It’s rather an important thing to miss out.’

‘Nevertheless,’ Xavier shrugged, still wearing that same smile and looking unmoved by her words. ‘I’m afraid that I must decline.’

‘Why?’ Levine demanded, leaning forward in his chair to glare at him, suspicion clear in his eyes. ‘You got something to hide, Xavier? Worried you’re going to slip up and give yourself away?’ 

Xavier blinked. Then he tilted his head. ‘Give myself away?’ he repeated.

There was a pause.

Detective MacTaggert hid a grimace and clenched her jaw, barely refraining from throwing her partner a dirty look.

Xavier slowly sat back in his seat, cocking his head to the side and regarding the two of them shrewdly. ‘You know,’ he murmured, allowing his gaze to slide from Moira to Levine and back. ‘You’re making me rather nervous, Detectives.’ He paused deliberately, his gaze sharp and almost electric under the fluorescent lights. ‘You see, I was under the naïve impression that this interview was _voluntary_. Purely a matter of administrative procedure, I recall you saying. Or was I perhaps mistaken on that point?’

‘You weren’t,’ Moira said immediately, narrowing her eyes at Levine when he opened his mouth. ‘This interview is purely so we can create a solid timeline of the case as it stood ten years ago. The files are in generally good order, but it helps to have someone who was there at the time to go through things with us and ensure that the records are complete.’

Xavier watched her for a moment and then sighed and sat back in his chair. ‘Well,’ he said at last. ‘That’s good to hear. But I’m still not going to take you through the Creed incident. I can’t tell you anything more than what you already know – and I’m sure you know a lot, Detectives. Erik and I were interrogated about that incident almost half a dozen times – the records of which I am sure you have – and that’s on top of the reports that we turned in. Believe me, at this point there is nothing new that I could tell you about the case, and I for one have no interest in talking about it.’ 

‘Okay,’ Moira held up her hands. ‘We won’t talk about Creed.’

‘Thank you,’ Xavier dipped his head into a nod. ‘You may ask Erik, if you wish,’ he added as if in afterthought as Moira settled back in her chair. ‘But I doubt you’ll get much out of him, either.’

*****

‘No,’ Lehnsherr said flatly. ‘I’m not going to talk about it.’

Moira and Levine shared a look. 

‘Why not?’ Levine asked after a beat.

‘Because I don’t want to,’ Lehnsherr said flatly. ‘It’s not a pleasant memory for me, Detective – or for Charles, either. Or are you going to tell me that he spoke to you on this matter willingly?’

Levine’s lips twisted. ‘No,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Xavier didn’t say anything about it either.’

Lehnsherr nodded at that, looking almost satisfied. ‘Well – there you are then.’

‘He took us through the investigation up to the point where you found Creed,’ Moira said steadily. ‘And he told us a bit of what happened after, with the conclusion of your investigation. But he wouldn’t tell us anything of what actually happened during the Creed incident.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me in the least,’ Lehnsherr said, shrugging. ‘And I am afraid that I will have to take a leaf out of his book and do the same. Ask me what you like about the rest of it, Detectives, but on this matter I will say absolutely nothing.’

Moira narrowed her eyes. ‘You do realise how suspicious it looks that neither of you wants to talk about this, don’t you?’ she demanded, her nostrils flaring. ‘That you are both shutting this down without any good reason?’

Lehnsherr’s eyebrows rose. ‘Without good reason?’ he repeated coldly. ‘I already told you, Detective – the memory isn’t one that I care to recall. I would ask you to respect that or else find someone else to harass. After all, this interview is only for administrative purposes, isn’t that right?’

Moira and Levine shared a look.

‘Yes,’ Levine said after a pause, his words clipped. ‘That’s right.’

‘Hmm,’ Lehnsherr sat back in his chair, his brow furrowed. ‘Good. I’m sure you think it unreasonable of us to wish to keep silent on this matter, Detectives, but you see, Charles and I … we’ve both spent enough time talking about this. More than enough. We both promised ourselves long ago that once everything blew over then that was it – we wouldn’t speak of the Creed incident ever again. Whatever Charles’s motivation behind his silence is, I, at least, intend to honour that promise.’

Moira raised an eyebrow. ‘Even now? After a decade? And to a man whom you claim you haven’t spoken to in over ten years?’

Lehnsherr frowned at her. ‘I always keep my promises,’ he said stiffly. ‘Always. And besides, I made the promise to myself, not Charles.’

‘Would it have made a difference?’ Levine asked curiously.

Lehnsherr turned his eyes on him. ‘No,’ he said after a moment. ‘No, it wouldn’t.’

*****

__  
**8 months after the Creed incident,**  


 

_‘Raven isn’t speaking to me.’_

_Erik looked up from the steering wheel, glancing over to where Charles was sitting in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on the road ahead._

_Erik considered this. ‘Is there a good reason for that?’ he asked evenly._

_Charles’s brow furrowed. ‘ **She** certainly thinks so,’ he muttered, before sighing when Erik raised an eyebrow at him. ‘I caught her sneaking into my study to look at my files,’ he said reluctantly, scowling out of the side window. ‘My old case files.’_

_Erik gave him a sharp glance. ‘You keep our old files at home?’ he asked, his voice toneless._

_Charles waved him off, looking impatient. ‘Just copies,’ he said vaguely. ‘I like to look back on them every now and then.’_

_Erik smirked. ‘And you wonder why everyone at the station thinks you are strange.’_

_Charles let out a huff of impatience. ‘It’s all in the pursuit of intellectual stimulation,’ he said loftily. ‘And it’s not as if it’s hurting anyone.’_

_‘Except Raven.’_

_Charles’s expression immediately morphed into a scowl. ‘Except Raven,’ he agreed darkly._

_‘What happened exactly?’ Erik asked after a beat._

_Charles rolled his eyes. ‘Exactly what you’d expect. I told her off for looking at things she had no business looking at, she started yelling at me for trying to keep her sheltered, I told her to stop being ridiculous, she told me to fuck off and get the hell out of the house before she murdered me herself …’_

_Erik’s eyebrows went up. ‘Is that something that happens a lot?’ he asked._

_‘Do you mean Raven telling me to fuck off or saying that she’s going to murder me one of these days?’_

_Erik snorted. ‘I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to the first one,’ he said dryly. ‘I’m much more concerned about the second.’_

_Charles grimaced. ‘Yeah,’ he muttered darkly, his mouth pursed. ‘You know, sometimes she says things like that and in that moment I actually believe that she means them.’_

_‘She probably does,’ Erik said evenly._

_Charles’s mouth twisted. ‘She ought to be careful,’ he said, rubbing at his face with a humourless laugh. ‘Maybe one day I’ll actually do as she says.’_

_‘Maybe you should,’ Erik said at once. At Charles’s sharp look he sighed. ‘I honestly think it would be for the best, Charles. The two of you need space.’_

_‘You mean **Raven** does.’_

_‘ **Both** of you do,’ Erik said pointedly. ‘Don’t think that I don’t know you’re restless, Charles. The Creed case kept you occupied at the start, but now that it’s over you just seem so …’ he hesitated. ‘ **Detached.** ’_

_Charles cocked his head to the side. ‘You think I am detached?’ he asked curiously._

_Erik hesitated. ‘You’re distant,’ he said at last. ‘Ever since the Creed case was closed you’ve been restless. I’m not sure whether it’s because you’re unhappy with the way things ended, or if …’ He trailed off._

_‘If?’ Charles prompted._

_Erik shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead. ‘Maybe things aren’t exciting enough for you any more.’_

_Charles’s eyes narrowed. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’_

_Erik grimaced. ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘Forget I said it.’_

_‘No, really,’ Charles’s voice had acquired a fixed pleasantness to it. ‘Please, explain that to me.’_

_Erik clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening reflexively on the car’s steering-wheel. After a moment he relaxed his firm hold and sighed. ‘All I am saying is that maybe you and Raven need some time apart,’ he said with studied calmness. ‘You’re both too much on edge right now. Some space would do you good.’_

_Charles snorted. ‘Oh really? And where exactly would I go?’_

_Erik’s mouth pursed but he didn’t say anything._

_Charles sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said after a moment, shaking his head. ‘I couldn’t leave her, Erik. I couldn’t do that.’_

_‘Why not?’ Erik demanded bluntly._

_Charles frowned. ‘Raven is my priority,’ he said, running his hand through his hair with more force than was necessary. ‘It doesn’t matter how edgy or antsy we might feel. She comes first for me. Always.’_

_‘And did she agreed to that?’ Erik asked sceptically._

_‘She doesn’t have to.’_

_‘I think she does.’ At Charles’s stubborn look, Erik rolled his eyes. ‘Honestly, Charles, what does she have to do to convince you that she doesn’t need you any more?’_

_Charles shrugged. ‘I can’t imagine,’ he drawled. ‘Something drastic, I assume.’_

_Erik shook his head. ‘You’re pushing her too hard,’ he warned before letting out a sigh. ‘Just watch that you don’t push her too far.’_

_Charles looked away, a stubborn expression on his face, but after a moment he relented. ‘It’s just – she’s so **young** ,’ he said wistfully. ‘And it’s always been just the two of us for as long as I can remember. I … what would we do without each other?’_

_Erik frowned. ‘You know, she’s not as young as you seem to think,’ he said patiently. ‘And Charles – you are not alone. Not you **or** Raven. You have me. And you know I will always look after Raven.’_

_Charles paused and turned to look at him, a serious expression on his face. ‘You promise?’ he asked intently._

_Erik glanced up at the rear-view mirror, his eyes meeting Charles’s. He held the gaze for a long moment before dipping his head into a sharp nod. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I promise.’_

_Charles let out a breath that he seemed to have been unconsciously holding. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘That’s good.’_

_Erik relaxed. ‘Think you might actually listen to me then?’ he drawled, the corner of his lips tugging upwards. ‘I have been known to give good advice on occasion. Which you would already know if you ever bothered listening to me.’_

_Charles huffed out a laugh at that but he didn’t say anything, and they both then fell into silence._

_After a minute, Charles let out a sigh. ‘What would I do?’ he wondered out loud. When Erik glanced over at him his head was tipped back against the headrest of his seat and his were eyes closed. ‘Even if I did leave Raven. Where would I go?’_

_Erik did not speak for a time. ‘You know,’ he said after a moment, his voice deliberately light. ‘I do have a spare room. You could always come and stay with me.’_

_Charles’s eyes opened and he blinked at Erik in surprise._

_Erik met his gaze and held it._

_After a moment of hesitation Charles’s lips curved upwards and he turned away to look ahead of him, smiling._

_‘I’ll think about it,’ he said, and then he closed his eyes again._

*****

_Two weeks later Raven got into a minor car accident and dislocated her shoulder._

_Erik did not suggest moving in again._

*****

‘You mentioned before that you and Mr. Lehnsherr were close,’ MacTaggert said as she glanced idly down at her notepad. Xavier nodded. ‘Was this merely in your capacity as partners? Or would you say that you and Mr. Lehnsherr were friends too?’ She paused. ‘Or perhaps more?’ Her voice was light, inquiring, but her eyes were sharp and were riveted to Xavier’s face.

Xavier’s eyebrow rose. ‘More?’ he asked, his tone impeccably polite.

‘How close were you and Mr. Lehnsherr?’ Moira swiftly rephrased the question. ’What was the nature of your relationship with him?’

Xavier shrugged. ‘He was my partner,’ he said calmly. ‘And my friend.’ He raised his eyebrow. ‘Which you already know.’

‘Yes,’ Moira said patiently. ‘But were you ever …’ She paused, trying to find a suitable word. ‘Intimate?’ she said at last.

Beside her, Levine smirked.

Xavier ignored him, his expression unwavering. ‘We were close,’ he said blandly.

‘Not what I was asking.’

‘She’s asking if you two were fucking,’ Levine interrupted before Xavier could respond, his smirk now fully on display.

Xavier slowly raised an eyebrow. ‘What an odd question that is, Detective,’ he remarked, sounding perfectly calm.

‘Nevertheless,’ MacTaggert said firmly, stepping in before Levine could continue with a glare at her partner. ‘It _is_ a question.’

Xavier’s eyebrows rose even higher. ‘Oh?’ he asked, only a modicum of surprise in his tone. ‘And – forgive me for being obtuse, but – how exactly is this relevant to the matter at hand?’

‘That is for us to decide,’ Levine said, smirk still firmly in place. ‘Now answer the question: what was the nature of your relationship to Erik Lehnsherr?’

*****

‘None of your fucking business,’ Lehnsherr snarled the moment the subject was broached. ‘Now ask me something that’s actually relevant to the case, or I’m walking.’

*****

Xavier regarded them coolly, his head tilted to the side as if he were considering how he would answer the question.

‘I think we both know that that’s not any business of yours whatsoever,’ he said at last, sounding bored. ‘But I will say this about Erik and I – our relationship never extended beyond the norm.’ He paused and then turned a bland smile on Moira. ‘I’d honestly say that our friendship was much like that of all partners on the force. I mean – would you say that you and Detective Levine were friends, Detective MacTaggert?’

Levine and MacTaggert cast startled glances at each other and then immediately glanced away, trying to smooth away their expressions.

‘Ah,’ Xavier said, glancing from one to the other, a glint sparking in his eyes. ‘Never mind. My mistake.’

MacTaggert glared at him. ‘Your answer, Mr. Xavier.’

Xavier let out a sigh. ‘I thought I just gave it to you,’ he said impatiently. ‘We might have been friendly but we were first and foremost partners. If you want to find out what that means then you should ask the other detectives on your force.’ He paused. ‘Or get yourself a new partner.’

‘Now wait just a damn—’ Levine snarled.

‘Enough,’ MacTaggert snapped, interrupting him. ‘No more games, Mr. Xavier.’

Xavier raised his eyebrow again. ‘Oh?’ he drawled.

‘I mean it,’ MacTaggert said forcefully. ‘I’ve had enough. I’m tired of your evasions, and I’m tired of your jibes. My patience is at an end.’

Charles blinked wide, guileless eyes at her. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said truthfully. ‘But I’m really not sure what more I could do for you, Detective MacTaggert.’

Moira made a noise of impatience and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Honesty,’ she said flatly. ‘I just want you to answer our questions and be completely honest with us.’

Charles took a sip of his drink. ‘Ah,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘That might be a tad difficult.’

MacTaggert’s shoulders immediately went stiff. ‘In what way?’ she asked in a low, dangerous voice. ‘And before you answer, Mr. Xavier, might I remind you that when you agreed to this meeting we asked you if you were willing to give us your complete honesty and cooperation, and you said _yes_.’

Xavier considered this for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘Indeed I did. I did agree to be honest with you and, I assure you, at the time I had every intention of being so.’ He paused and his eyes suddenly narrowed. ‘But then you did me the discourtesy of withholding the truth from _me_ , Detective, and that, I can assure you, is not something that I have much tolerance for.’

Levine and MacTaggert stared at him in surprise. 

‘Withholding the truth from _you_?’ Levine repeated, looking outraged. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘ _What_ truth, Mr. Xavier?’ MacTaggert asked coldly, although there was a small flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Xavier gave them a deeply unimpressed look. ‘You told me that I was coming here for a review of the case,’ he said coolly. ‘And I, seeing no reason to do otherwise, believed you. So then imagine my surprise when I turn up here at the department and realise that, instead of a review, I am being faced with an _interrogation_.’

Levine turned to MacTaggert in alarm, but she just held herself completely calm and still.

‘What makes you say that, Mr. Xavier?’ she asked steadily.

‘Do you deny it?’ Xavier returned with a dry half-smile.

Neither Levine nor MacTaggert said anything.

‘There you are then,’ Xavier said evenly, and then sat back in his chair, reaching out to once again pick up his glass of wine. ‘Just out of curiosity, though – when _were_ you going to start asking me about the new murders?’

Both MacTaggert and Levine startled, glancing at each other uncertainly.

‘I thought that would have been the first thing you asked me about,’ Charles mused, ignoring their dismay. ‘My thoughts, my hypotheses … my whereabouts at the time of the last murder.’ He watched in satisfaction as both Levine and MacTaggert grimaced. ‘… But then perhaps you were aware that I wouldn’t have been quite so cooperative if you had begun that way.’

‘You were hardly cooperative to begin with,’ Moira observed, valiantly trying to appear unaffected.

Xavier shrugged. ‘Again, Detective – it’s all a matter of perspective. As far as I’m concerned I’ve been nothing short of generous with my cooperation.’

Levine was still struggling with Xavier’s accusation. ‘What makes you think that there are new—’

‘Oh you’re not going to deny it, are you?’ Xavier said reproachfully, looking disappointed. ‘Honestly, Detective Levine, I expected more of you. Are you trying to tell me that those _aren’t_ the new crime scene photos that you’ve been hiding under your files all this time? Or that you _weren’t_ waiting for the ideal moment to reveal them? No doubt you thought to benefit from my cooperation before springing the news of the murders on me in hopes of eliciting a reaction.’ He gave them a cold, fake smile of apology. ‘Sorry to disappoint you there.’

Moira clenched her jaw, the tension visible in her face. ‘May I ask how you even knew about the recent murders?’ she asked tightly. ‘Not even the press have linked them together yet, so how—’

Xavier shook his head, cutting MacTaggert off. ‘Oh no, it’s too late now. If you want anything more from me then I am afraid you will have to arrest me, although I doubt you currently have any solid basis for doing so.’ He drank deeply from his glass of wine, surveying the two detectives over the top. ‘This concludes our interview, I am afraid, delightful as it was. I like you, Detective MacTaggert, truly I do, but unfortunately, you lied to me about your intentions and I am afraid that I cannot tolerate that.’

‘We’re not done here,’ Levine snapped, glaring at him. ‘You never actually told us why you returned here, Xavier. You left ten years ago and then the moment you return the murders start up again? Even _you_ must know that’s fishy.’

Xavier’s eyes flickered before he once again met Levine’s gaze and gave him a bland smile. ‘I understand why you might feel that way,’ he said pleasantly, taking a sip from his glass. ‘But I told you at the start, Detectives – I’m here to write a paper on the blue-speckled tiger moth, which – coincidentally – happens to reside in this very area.’ He smiled thinly, raising a mocking eyebrow. ‘I’ll send you a copy when I’m done, if you’re interested.’

Levine glared at him, a noise like an aborted snarl sounding from his mouth. Xavier’s smile widened and he flicked his eyes over to MacTaggert, who was sitting quietly in her seat, watching him sip his wine with narrowed eyes.

‘You know,’ she said when Xavier caught her eye, her expression remaining tight and her lips turned down at the edges, ‘for all your supposed anger and sense of injustice, I can’t help noticing that you’re not exactly storming out of here in a huff,’ 

Xavier smiled. ‘Oh no, I will,’ he said pleasantly, draining the last drops from his glass before casually reaching forward to top it up from the half-full wine bottle that was standing next to him. ‘I just _really_ hate to see a good bottle of wine go to waste.’

*** ******

‘I couldn’t say.’

‘Please look _closer_ , Mr. Lehnsherr,’ MacTaggert pressed, her brow creasing when Lehnsherr only gave the assembled photographs the most cursory of glances. ‘Is there anything that you could tell me about the style of these killings? Are they the same sort as those in the Creed case? Are they different?’

Lehnsherr shrugged. ‘I couldn’t say,’ he said again, and went back to nursing on the cigarette that he was holding between his fingers.

MacTaggert sighed, turning a weary look on Levine, who grimaced in return. She closed her eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath, before opening them and fixing her gaze once more on Lehnsherr.

‘You said earlier that Xavier supersedes you in terms of imagination,’ she said determinedly. ‘Do you believe that you lack imagination, Mr. Lehnsherr?’

Lehnsherr did not look the least bit irritated by the implicit suggestion. ‘Maybe,’ he said in a bored tone, even as he dipped his head in a nod. ‘Relatively. It’s hard to say. All intelligent men are, to some degree, imaginative.’ He shrugged. ‘Sometimes it’s just limited to a certain field.’

Moira’s lips tightened. ‘And Xavier?’ she asked with forced patience.

‘Charles?’ Erik lifted his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag. ‘Charles … is a lot more imaginative than most.’

‘I see,’ MacTaggert said.

‘Do you?’ Lehnsherr raised an eyebrow in apparent amusement. ‘Somehow I don’t think that you do.’

‘Oh?’ MacTaggert sat up in interest, raising her own eyebrow. ‘And why do you say that, Mr. Lehnsherr?’

Lehnsherr smiled then, revealing every single one of his teeth. Levine looked vaguely uncomfortable. ‘Because you met Charles once and yet you already think that you can categorise him.’ Lehnsherr ignored Levine completely and fixed his eyes on MacTaggert. ‘Because you’ve created these nice little categories inside that pretty, mundane little head of yours and you think you know exactly where to fix Charles.’ He paused then and tilted his head, a small, mocking smile playing on his lips even as his eyes turned icy cold. ‘Because you think that Charles Xavier is the killer you are looking for and you brought in me, his ex-partner, to help you convict him.’ 

This time MacTaggert’s expression wavered. Lehnsherr’s cold smile grew wider.

‘Did you really think that I wouldn’t realise?’ he murmured, his eyes glinting sharply in the cold light. ‘I may not have Charles’s imagination, Detective, but that doesn’t mean that I am completely clueless. Or could it simply be that you were hoping that I just wouldn’t care that you were trying to build a case against my old partner?’

Neither Levine nor MacTaggert answered.

Lehnsherr shook his head, tutting lightly. ‘This is all highly inappropriate,’ he said with false reproach. ‘I would bring up department regulations concerning the gathering of evidence, but frankly there wouldn’t be any point, would there? I did, after all, come here of my own free will.’ He grinned lazily at them. ‘Conveniently for me, that also means that I am free to leave whenever I please. Which, it just so happens,’ Lehnsherr glanced down at his watch, ‘is in the next few minutes.’

‘Why in a few minutes?’ MacTaggert asked immediately, sounding suspicious.

Lehnsherr raised an eyebrow. ‘I need to finish my cigarette, of course,’ he said admonishingly, before bringing it to his mouth and breathing in a lungful of smoke, his eyes never leaving MacTaggert’s.

Moira watched him for a moment, her eyes cool and assessing. ‘I was wrong about you,’ she said quietly.

Lehnsherr raised an eyebrow, cigarette still at his lips.

‘You and Xavier,’ MacTaggert said. ‘I said before that the two of you weren’t very much alike … but I was wrong, wasn’t I?’ She watched him closely, her dark eyes studying his. ‘The two of you – you are a lot more alike than people think.’

Something glinted in Lehnsherr’s eye at that, but he simply returned her gaze. Then, taking one last inhale of his cigarette, he deliberately leaned forward and stubbed it heavily into a waiting ash-tray.

‘Good luck with your investigation, Detective,’ he said coolly, rising from his seat. ‘You’re crawling up the wrong tree, but – I nevertheless wish you luck.’

‘Thank you,’ MacTaggert said calmly.

Lehnsherr studied her for a moment before giving her a nod and moving towards the door. He paused when he reached it, however, and turned his neck around just enough so that he could catch her eye. ‘Oh, and Detective – a word of advice?’

MacTaggert slowly dipped her head.

Lehnsherr raised an eyebrow. ‘Get yourself a new partner,’ he said, nodding his head in Levine’s direction. Then he left.

The door swung shut behind him before Levine had a chance to voice his outrage.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Sorry for the sudden break in posting - hopefully we can get back to a regular posting schedule from now on.
> 
> Hope you like the twist in this chapter (and that you don't find it too confusing!)!

Erik exited the police station with a grim expression, his movements swift and controlled. He nodded once or twice when confronted by a familiar face but he did not smile or open his mouth, and he kept his eyes directed straight ahead of him. Walking out into the parking lot, he pulled on his brown leather jacket and quickly made his way over to his motorbike. He paused when he arrived in front of it, his expression pensive, before then shaking his head and climbing onto the bike. A moment later, he was pulling out of the car park and speeding along the road, zipping past the few cars that were in his way with a narrow, single-minded focus.

Ten minutes later he was pulling off onto a deserted side road, grimacing when his bike jolted and jerked over the uneven ground. He slowed down as he caught sight of the abandoned cabin up ahead, coming to a stop a few yards away, just in front of an old, boring blue Ford Focus. He slowly turned off the engine of his bike and kicked down the stand before straightening up carefully, all the while highly aware of the eyes that were fixed on him from somewhere up ahead. 

Climbing off the bike, he slowly lifted his face towards the derelict and normally deserted cabin. It was less than a decade old, but Erik wasn’t surprised that it had been abandoned; structures built on murder sites didn’t exactly have the best start to begin with, and as much as the Munoz murder had gripped the interest of the public, no one in their right mind would want to live anywhere near the place where the body had been found. Erik deliberately allowed his gaze to linger on an untouched corner of the site before finally taking a deep breath and dragging his gaze back to focus on the porch.

There was a figure standing there in the shadows, idly reclining against the walls of the building. There was something almost casually graceful in the person’s stance, a confidence to it that was almost palpable, even as it oozed complete carelessness. As Erik watched, the figure peeled itself away from the shadows and slowly strode over to stand in front of him, hands in pockets and a wry smile on the long-haired, bearded face.

‘Charles,’ Erik greeted, putting his own hands in his jacket pockets and nodding at him.

‘Erik,’ Charles smiled pleasantly. ‘Nice bike.’

‘Nice _look_ ,’ Erik returned evenly. ‘Not quite your usual style.’

Charles shrugged, reaching up to run a hand over his long hair and straggly beard, not looking the least bit self-conscious about his altered appearance. ‘Things change,’ he said simply. He then looked up and gave Erik a small smile. ‘Did you have a nice chat with the good detectives?’

Erik snorted. ‘Oh yes,’ his tone was dry. ‘Murder always makes for pleasant conversation.’

‘Ah,’ Charles glanced down at his shoes in an approximation of sheepishness. Erik knew him better than that, though. ‘Of course, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to know if they gave you a hard time in there.’

‘You mean you want to know if they wanted me to talk about _you_ in there.’

Charles gave him a reproachful look. ‘I can’t be at all concerned about you?’

Erik gave him a look. ‘You’d make better use of your time worrying about _yourself_ ,’ he said bluntly. He craned his neck backwards and smiled lazily at Charles, the expression laced with hints of steel. ‘You know that they suspect you, right?’

Charles rolled his eyes. ‘I knew it the moment I walked through the door,’ he said, sighing. ‘Detective MacTaggert has a passable poker face but Detective Levine was entirely hopeless.’

‘True enough,’ Erik agreed, dipping his head in acknowledgment. ‘Although it’s not as if _you_ need any visual clues to help tell you what someone is thinking.’

Charles shrugged. ‘Maybe not,’ he admitted. ‘But that doesn’t mean that Levine is any less of an abysmal police officer.’

Erik huffed out a laugh. ‘True,’ he said. ‘Though I can’t say that I cared very much for _either_ of them.’

‘Now, now,’ Charles sounded amused. ‘Even you can’t say that Moira was all that bad.’

‘Moira?’ Erik’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Are you on first-name terms with her already? Really, Charles,’ he drawled, ‘I know you work fast but isn’t this a bit much?’

‘Don’t be facetious,’ Charles said tartly, rolling his eyes. ‘It’s not as if I called her that to her face, you know – I was brought up better than that. And as for my working fast …’ Charles turned to Erik with a dry look. ‘Well … we both know that’s not entirely true.’

Erik’s jaw tightened. ‘That’s …’

‘Irrelevant?’ Charles suggested. ‘Beside the point? Something that I completely made up inside my own head?’

‘That’s not what I was going to say, and you know it,’ Erik growled. ‘Charles—’

‘Moira _was_ rather pretty, though,’ Charles murmured, ignoring him. ‘She had the loveliest hair – the most wonderful colour. I’ve always had the opinion that …’ he suddenly paused, frowning, and then turned away.

Erik’s gaze was fixed intently on his face but after a moment he too dropped his eyes and glanced away, his mouth a wry twist. 

They stood in tense silence for a minute before Erik rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Charles,’ he started, looking down at the dust-covered dirt road and not quite meeting his eyes. ‘I really think – we should talk about what happened. About how we left things. Before we go any further, I mean.’

Charles’s back stiffened slightly, but his face gave nothing away. ‘That’s really not necessary,’ he said coolly, his jaw taut.

‘It is if we want to clear the air,’ Erik said stubbornly. ‘Charles – what happened on that—’

‘It’s been ten years, Erik,’ Charles interrupted him, before sighing wearily. ‘I _think_ I’ve got over it by now.’

‘But still—’

‘I have no interest in hearing this,’ Charles said crisply, holding up a hand and smiling a thin, dangerous smile. ‘And quite frankly I’m surprised that _you_ of all people want to talk things over.’ Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘Ten years really does change things, doesn’t it?’

Erik’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not making this easy,’ he gritted out.

‘I really don’t see any reason why I should.’

‘Oh for—’ Erik gritted his teeth and swung around to glare at Charles. ‘I have nothing to apologise for.’

Charles was regarding him calmly. ‘I know.’

‘We all made our choices. I did, you did … and so did Raven.’

‘Yes,’ Charles agreed. ‘I know. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Erik.’

‘Really?’ Erik grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Then why does it feel like I actually _do_?’

Charles shrugged. A moment later he sighed and shook his head, his shoulders slumping in resignation. ‘Because ten years is a long time to clear the air,’ he said quietly, meeting Erik’s eyes. ‘Because you know that if we’re to finally catch this bastard and end this once and for all then we _need_ to clear it and make things right. Because—’ and here he hesitated, revealing for the first time a hint of vulnerability, ‘— because we missed each other.’

Erik didn’t say anything at first. A moment later his shoulders sagged and he nodded. ‘You’re right,’ he said tiredly. ‘It’s – it’s all those things that you said. We need to sit down and talk this through, Charles. For _their_ sakes if not for our own.’ Charles’s expression made it clear that he knew exactly who Erik was referring to. Erik watched him for a moment before taking a deep breath and meeting Charles’s eyes, a tentative expression on his face. ‘Have you seen Raven recently?’

‘No.’ Erik cringed at Charles’s tone. ‘No, I have not.’ Charles’s face was mask-like, and his tone was completely neutral. ‘And you?’

‘No,’ Erik shook his head, grimacing. ‘Not for a while now.’

‘Ah,’ Charles hesitated, and then frowned and shifted awkwardly. ‘Then you and she—’

‘No,’ Erik said quickly. ‘No, I haven’t seen her in years.’ He met Charles’s eyes. ‘Almost ten, in fact.’

Charles studied Erik’s face for a long moment before frowning again and looking away. ‘I see.’

‘Do you?’ Erik asked, studying Charles’s expression before turning away. ‘I suppose I need hardly tell you that I never kept the promise that I made you to look after her.’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘You probably realised that even before you left.’

Charles sighed. ‘Erik, you know that it hardly matters now,’ he said tiredly.

Erik’s jaw tightened. ‘Yes,’ he said heavily, his eyes far away. ‘I suppose it doesn’t.’

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

‘So,’ Charles said, after the awkward silence stretched out between them for more than few minutes. ‘What did you say to MacTaggert and Levine about the murders?’ 

Erik glanced over at him and gave him a look. ‘What do you think I said?’ he huffed out, reaching into his pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes. ‘I stuck to the story, like I always do. I told them our guy was a madman obsessed with animal skins.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I doubt that they would have taken me very seriously if I had brought up _mutants_ , in any case.’ 

Charles shrugged. ‘Well, better safe than sorry,’ he said lightly, watching as Erik lit his cigarette and brought it to his lips. 

‘Better to lie than be thrown in the loony bin, you mean?’ Erik said dryly. He took a long drag from his cigarette. ‘Why did you sit through that whole thing anyway? Couldn’t you have,’ here Erik made a gesture with his fingers against his head, ‘made them forget all about us?’

Charles frowned. ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said shaking his head. ‘These people are out for _justice_ , Erik. I wouldn’t wipe their minds just because it _inconvenienced_ me.’

‘Even though they suspect you?’

‘Especially because they suspect me.’

Erik snorted. ‘You make no sense, you know that, right?’

‘When did I ever? Besides,’ Charles sniffed, ‘If I hadn’t sat through the interview then I wouldn’t know what I do now. It takes time to read minds, you know. It’s a lot easier to read someone in your own time when they’re focused on the subject you want to know about than it is to go digging through someone’s brain in the space of a nanosecond.’ He shrugged lightly. ‘They asked the questions and I answered them; they just never realised that they were answering the same questions for me at the exact same time.’

Erik shook his head. ‘You always did know how to get things out of people, _Professor_.’

Charles smiled at that. ‘What can I say,’ he said wryly. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice.’

*****

__  
**Ten and a half years earlier,**  


_‘Thanks for helping us out, Detective Xavier,’ one of the men said as Charles passed by him and entered the interrogation room._

_Charles vaguely registered his name drawing a dim level of recognition from the prisoner in front of him but he paid it little mind. Both he and Detective Lehnsherr had become minor celebrities after the Creed collar, and they had both been caught up in the media circus that had surrounded the case almost before they knew what was happening. Neither of them had been particularly keen on appearing in the papers but the department had all but demanded it of them, keen as ever for as much good PR as they could gather, and now, despite the fact that the Creed case was over a year old, both Erik’s name and his were still recognised due to the amount of coverage that they had received._

_The case that Charles had currently been called out for was a relatively simple one, although Detectives Bryant and Jameson couldn’t have known it or else they wouldn’t have requested his presence. The prisoner – Maxwell Jordan, Charles read, glancing down at the file – was a lot closer to breaking point than he appeared on the surface. All it would take was a few subtle nudges in the right direction and Jordan would be ready to spill._

_Taking a deep breath, Charles took a seat in front of the convict, and dived into his mind._

_Things went exactly as expected after that: Jordan put on a brave front but the moment Charles began hinting at knowing more than he was saying, his defences crumbled. Charles had him putting the finishing touches on a full, signed confession before the hour was up._

_Charles repressed a mental sigh as he straightened up and nodded at the one-way mirror. He knew that he was doing valuable work but sometimes it all became **so** … He shook his head quickly, knowing that nothing good ever came from brooding on these thoughts, and instead schooled his expression as the door opened and Detectives Bryant and Jameson walked in._

_‘Excellent work, Detective Xavier,’ Bryant said, giving him a nod. ‘We’ll take it from here …’_

_But Charles wasn’t paying attention. Still loosely anchored as he was to Jordan’s mind, he was distracted by the sudden flare of recognition from him as he finally recognised where he knew the name Xavier from. However, the thought process did not end there, as Charles had expected. With the recognition, came a slew of thoughts and images flying through Jordan’s head as fast lightning and, before Charles could disengage himself from Jordan’s head, he caught a rush of thoughts and memories and ideas that flew through his mind faster than he could process them – **Xavier-Lehnsherr-newspapers-Creed-mutants-Genosha-the Black King-FEAR—**_

_‘Xavier!’_

_Charles’s thoughts snapped back inside his head and for a moment he was disorientated, only vaguely aware of the wary looks that Bryant and Jameson were exchanging with each other. Then he realised what it was that he had heard and for a moment he couldn’t breathe._

_Holding himself very still, Charles slowly turned around to face Jordan, who, like Bryant and Jameson, was watching him curiously._

_‘What did you say?’ Charles whispered, his voice hoarse as he stared at Jordan with eyes that were on the verge of wildness._

_Jordan looked just as confused by the question as Bryant and Jameson, who once more exchanged pointed looks._

_‘I didn’t say anything,’ he said uncertainly, glancing up at the other two detectives as if for confirmation, to which they just shrugged._

_But Charles was shaking his head distractedly. ‘No,’ he said, frowning. ‘No, you didn’t say it out loud …’_

_Bryant and Jameson were looking downright alarmed now, their arms twitching by their sides, and Jordan’s eyes were slowly narrowing in suspicion as some sort of animal intelligence reared its head and Charles very quickly realised that it was very possible that he didn’t have very much time left._

_‘The Black King!’ he blurted, reaching forward and grabbing Jordan by the neck and smashing their foreheads together, as if the proximity of their heads would make his mind easier to read. ‘What do you know about the Black King? Who is he?’ He speared his thoughts through Jordan’s head in desperation but he was met with a sudden flood of shock and terror that he couldn’t see past, that he couldn’t wade through – **how did he – he couldn’t have – what does he – TELEPATH – get out get out GET OUT! –**_

_‘The fuck are you doing, Xavier?’ Charles was wrenched back forcefully from Jordan’s side and all but hurled across the room. Dazed by the sudden move, it was a moment before he could see the expressions on the faces of Detectives Bryant and Jameson and then by the time he understood them for what they were, he was being hustled out of the room and pushed further and further away from the cell containing Maxwell Jordan._

_‘No,’ he struggled against the grip he was held in, his thoughts wild and hazy, but he was unable to escape. ‘No, no, you don’t understand, he knows! He knows – how does he **know**?’_

_‘Fucking psycho,’ Jameson muttered under his breath as he hauled Charles out towards the front of the building, looking murderous. ‘We ask for help with a criminal and they send us a fucking **lunatic** —’_

_‘You need to calm the fuck down, Xavier,’ Bryant gritted his teeth as he pulled Charles through the door, trying to ignore all the stares that they were receiving. ‘For fuck’s sake, think about where you are.’_

_Charles opened his mouth to say more but suddenly he was released and, when he blinked, he realised he was outside the building, staring up into the disapproving and suspicious faces of Bryant, Jameson, and about half a dozen other different officers._

_‘Thank you for your time, Xavier,’ Bryant said tonelessly. ‘We won’t forget what you did here today.’_

_‘Yeah, you’ll be hearing from us,’ Jameson added, unable – or perhaps unwilling – to hide the way his lip curled with disgust when he looked at Charles. Somewhere far away Charles heard **should be locked up himself** but he couldn’t quite be sure which of the officers said it as, as one, they all turned around and left, leaving Charles alone and wild-eyed, staring at the building in which he had found his entire world suddenly turned on its head._

*****

_Erik was sitting at his desk, feeling more than a little resentful as he filled out line after line of a report, when Charles suddenly blew into the office with the force of a whirlwind, his eyes wide and his hands almost shaking._

_Frowning, Erik put down his pen and turned towards him, casting a quick, critical glance up and down Charles’s form to check if he appeared in any way injured. ‘Charles?’ he said cautiously, slowly rising from his seat. ‘Is everything alright?’_

_Charles stared at him, wide-eyed, before furiously shaking his head. ‘Erik,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘Erik – Erik, it wasn’t Creed.’_

_Erik went still. Quickly glancing around, he glared at the curious faces that were watching them and, striding forward, he reached out and caught Charles by the wrist. ‘Come with me,’ he said grimly, before tugging Charles firmly over to one of the empty storage rooms on the other side of the building, away from prying eyes. Once there, with the door closed behind them, Erik finally let go of Charles’s wrist and, folding his arms, glared at him._

_‘Now,’ he said, his voice icy cold. ‘Say that again. Slowly.’_

_‘It wasn’t Creed,’ Charles said immediately, his hands skittering nervously over nothing. ‘Well – it **was** but it wasn’t **just** him. He wasn’t the ringleader. Erik – **he wasn’t the Black King**.’_

_Erik’s expression immediately darkened. ‘You better have a damn good reason for saying that, Charles,’ he growled. ‘Because we caught that motherfucker and closed that case a long time ago, and I **know** we didn’t make a mistake with it.’_

_‘We didn’t,’ Charles said immediately. ‘But Erik … ’_

_Erik listened in silence as Charles relayed what had happened that afternoon with Jordan in the interrogation rooms of the neighbouring county. When Charles finished, Erik’s shoulders slumped._

_‘Charles,’ he said tiredly, as Charles waited with nervous energy for him to pronounce his verdict. ‘Charles – that doesn’t **mean** anything.’_

_Charles went still._

_‘Look,’ Erik ran a hand through his hair. ‘This – **Jordan** – he recognised your name from the papers and he put two and two together. That’s all. There’s nothing more to it.’_

_‘But –’ Charles stared at him, appalled. ‘Erik, he knew about the **Black King**. That wasn’t in the papers, you know it wasn’t! How could he know that name when it was never publicised?’_

_‘I don’t know,’ Erik shook his head, feeling a weight settle over him, pulling him down along with his exhaustion. ‘Maybe he heard one of those officers discussing the case before you arrived and retained the name in his memory.’_

_Charles shook his head firmly. ‘No, that’s not what—’_

_‘Or maybe you let it slip by mistake,’ Erik continued, feeling a headache threatening at his temples and wishing more than anything that he had indulged in a good cup of coffee before Charles had returned. ‘You were under stress, Jordan recognising your name brought back memories of the case, you started to subconsciously think about it and—’_

_‘I did **not** plant the thought in Jordan’s head!’ Charles snarled, suddenly angry. ‘I know my own mind better than that, Erik. I **know** what I heard, and that was all **him** , not me.’_

_‘You mean you **want** it to be him.’_

_‘What …’ Charles stared at him, simultaneously angry and perplexed. ‘Why are you so determined to discredit this?’_

_‘Why are you so determined to push it?’ Erik snapped back, frustration suddenly bubbling up to the surface. ‘Christ, Charles, this case was closed a **year** ago, let it rest! It’s **over**. I know that the Creed case was the highlight of your career here but for **fuck’s sake** let it go already. The rest of us have.’_

_Charles stared at him in shock. ‘That’s what you think this is?’ he demanded, sounding appalled. ‘Just – me wanting to relive old glories?’_

_‘No, I think you’re **bored** ,’ Erik gritted out, willing himself to keep his temper. ‘I think you’ve been bored ever since that case ended and you’ve spent all this time hoping and wishing and praying for something **interesting** to come along so that you can put that big brain of yours to work and—’_

_‘You think I **want** —’_

_‘I think that you need something to keep you busy,’ Erik said tiredly, scrubbing a hand over his face. ‘That you don’t get the satisfaction that the rest of us do when we put one of these scumbags away.’_

_‘Yes, well, **you** make every one of these cases personal,’ Charles snapped. ‘Each case that we get – it’s like every crime that’s been perpetrated has been done against **you**.’_

_Erik went very still. ‘Stay out of my head, Charles,’ he warned, his tone dangerous._

_Charles ran a hand through his hair in frustration. ‘I’m not **in** your head!’_

_‘I can **feel** you there!’ Erik growled._

_‘Well, I’m not doing it on **purpose**!’_

_‘Then maybe you should go and—’ Erik suddenly stopped talking. Then, before Charles could say anything, Erik was suddenly right in front of him, pressed right up into his space, looming over him. Charles opened his mouth to stammer out a question – and right at that moment Erik suddenly ducked in, moving his face right up to Charles’s …_

_And then he sniffed him._

_Charles jerked back in surprise and blinked up at Erik bemusedly. ‘Erik, what—’_

_‘Are you drunk?’ Erik demanded, interrupting him._

_‘What?’ Charles stared at him._

_‘I asked you a question,’ Erik said through gritted teeth, his voice dangerously low and measured. ‘Charles. Are – you – drunk?’_

_‘No!’ Charles said defensively. Then he relented. ‘Well – yes, I did stop by a bar to have a quick drink to steady my nerves, but—’_

_‘You **idiot**!’ Erik hissed, looking incensed. ‘Why didn’t you come to me?’_

_‘I did!’ Charles protested. ‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’_

_‘ **Before** this! Before you went and—’ Erik gestured at Charles, his expression one of disgust._

_‘I’m telling you, I’m **fine** ,’ Charles’s voice was low and moderated but his body was held stiffly in one long, tense line. ‘You need to calm down, Erik, this isn’t anything to worry about. I’m **fine** , I just needed something to steady my nerves.’_

_‘So why didn’t you call me before?’ Erik demanded, his lip curling up into something that was almost a sneer. ‘Why didn’t you come here and tell me about Jordan before you had a drink? Because you knew it was all a crock of shit?’_

_‘Because I knew you wouldn’t believe me!’ Charles snapped, his anger and frustration coming out all at once. He went completely still after that, looking as if he couldn’t believe that he had said that. He glanced over at Erik, who looked almost as bemused as he did, before sighing. ‘I knew what you’d say, Erik,’ Charles said quietly, his voice low and dull. ‘I knew that you wouldn’t hear me out. That you wouldn’t believe me.’_

_‘Charles …’ Erik stared at him helplessly. ‘Charles – we **got** Creed. We **caught** him. It’s over.’_

_Charles shook his head. ‘No,’ he said tiredly. ‘We may have got him, but this is far from over.’ He looked up pleadingly into Erik’s eyes. ‘Can’t you – **won’t** you believe me?’_

_Erik held his gaze for a moment before glancing away. ‘You’re tired, Charles,’ he said in a deliberate tone of forced calm. ‘And you’re – you’ve had too much to drink. Why don’t you go home, and we’ll talk about this later?’_

_A light went out in Charles’s eyes. ‘Ah,’ he said, turning away and smiling bitterly. ‘I see. Yes … yes, perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I will. Go home, I mean.’_

_‘Do you want me to drive you?’ Erik’s expression was neutral but Charles could feel the concern emanating from him._

_‘No, no,’ Charles waved him off. ‘No need. Don’t trouble yourself. Really. And don’t worry,’ he gave Erik a crooked smile. ‘I won’t drive. I’ll – I’ll catch the bus or something.’_

_Erik looked doubtful. ‘If you’re sure,’ he said cautiously._

_‘Yeah,’ Charles grimaced and started to walk towards the door. ‘I – I will see you tomorrow.’_

_Erik frowned. ‘You don’t want me to stop by?’ he asked, crossing his arms over his chest._

_Charles shook his head. ‘No, no – I’m just going to put myself to bed. There’s really no need to bother yourself.’_

_‘Hmm,’ Erik scrutinised him carefully. When he next spoke, there was a sense of brittle vulnerability in his voice. ‘Charles—’_

_‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Erik,’ Charles interrupted him, looking determinedly at the exit. ‘Yes?’_

_Erik looked at him for a moment before giving a short, stiff nod._

_‘Alright then,’ Charles nodded his head in relief. ‘I’ll be seeing you.’_

_And with that he turned and walked out of the door._

_He didn’t look back even once._

*****

_Charles didn’t come back to work the next day. Or the next._

*****

They sat there in silence, having run out of reminiscences and small talk, neither of them saying a word but simply staring out into the distance in front of them. The sun was lowering in the sky and the wind was getting chillier, but still neither of them made to move away.

‘What are you doing here, Charles?’ Erik asked at last, sounding tired. ‘Why did you even come back?’

Charles sighed, breaking out of his reverie and turning away from the distance. ‘You know why,’ he said quietly. ‘You know it better than anyone else.’

Erik met his eyes and held his gaze for a moment before turning away and nodding. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I do.’

They were both silent for a moment longer.

Then: ‘What did you do? After you left, I mean.’

Charles inhaled deeply and straightened his shoulders, pushing his hair back from his forehead. ‘Not a lot, at first,’ he admitted, frowning slightly and not meeting Erik’s eyes. ‘I – I wasn’t in a good place. I drank a lot.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m sure that comes as no surprise. I was a mess, for a long time. Took me well over a year to pull myself together. Still haven’t managed to kick the habit entirely,’ he smiled ruefully. ‘But it’s under control.’ He met Erik’s eyes. ‘ _I’m_ in control.’

Erik nodded briefly. ‘I believe you,’ he said gravely. ‘You wouldn’t have come back otherwise.’

Charles took a deep breath. ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I wouldn’t.’

‘So what else did you do?’ Erik asked after a pause. ‘After you’d got yourself … sorted out?’

Charles shrugged. ‘I travelled for a bit. Went to a lot of different places, met a lot of interesting people … the usual story. It helped, though. Helped me to find myself again. I went back to Oxford,’ he added abruptly. ‘Stayed there for a while. It was … good. Calming. Familiar. I couldn’t stay though. Not after … everything. It just – it wouldn’t have worked.’

Erik nodded but didn’t say anything.

‘After that,’ Charles sighed. ‘After that I went back to Westchester. Reclaimed the ancestral family manse and all that.’ He watched with a sardonic smile as Erik’s eyebrows rose. ‘Unexpected, yes? But I felt that it was time. I had made some contacts during my travels, you see, and – well, long story short – I started a school. A school for people like us. The gifted.’

Erik stared at him. ‘A school,’ he repeated blankly.

Charles smiled and shrugged his shoulders. ‘It seemed like the thing to do,’ he said wryly.

Erik stared at him for a moment longer before shaking his head. ‘I always did think that in another life you would have been a teacher.’ He let out a short laugh. ‘I just didn’t think you would get around to it in _this_ life.’

‘I didn’t either,’ Charles admitted. ‘It was always my intention to remain a police officer for my entire life, Erik. Walking away … it wasn’t an easy decision. Not at all. For more than one reason.’

Erik’s jaw tightened and he looked away. After a moment he scowled and scuffed the ground with his foot. ‘Damn it, Charles,’ he growled. ‘Why did you have to come back? After all this time … why couldn’t you just let it go?’

Charles looked up at that and held Erik’s gaze for a long moment. ‘Because there are some things that don’t let you go, no matter how far you run,’ he said seriously. ‘Because I had unfinished business here. Because we need to finish this, you and I. Once and for all.’

Erik scowled down at his feet. ‘What makes you think I want to?’ he asked stubbornly. ‘Maybe I’ve washed my hands of it all. Maybe I’ve moved on.’

Charles shook his head. ‘Forgive me, my friend,’ he said quietly, ‘but in my opinion a man who spends every weekend for the past seven years trying to solve a set of decade-old murders has not, as you put it, “moved on”.’

Erik’s back stiffened. A moment later, however, he sighed. ‘I suppose there’s no point in asking you to stay out of my head?’ he asked tiredly.

Charles’s face was expressionless. ‘You can ask,’ he said, his voice toneless.

Erik shook his head. ‘There’s no point.’ Before Charles could say anything he continued. ‘It’s not as if I really want you to stay out.’

Charles blinked. ‘You don’t?’ he asked cautiously.

Erik gave him a wry smile. ‘Believe it or not, I’ve actually missed having you in my head these last few years. It’s always felt as if something was missing, ever since you left.’

‘Oh,’ Charles frowned down at his feet, his brow furrowed. Then he grimaced and shook his head. ‘Ten years, Erik,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Ten long years.’

Erik didn’t say anything.

‘It feels like a lifetime ago,’ Charles said, running a tired hand through his hair. ‘It _was_ a lifetime ago. We were different people then.’

‘Not so different,’ Erik said softly, looking up at last and meeting Charles’s eyes. ‘Things haven’t changed as much as you think, Charles. Not the important things. Not the things that matter.’

Charles held his gaze for a moment before looking away. ‘Perhaps,’ he said evenly, eyes gazing off into the distance. ‘But that doesn’t mean that things aren’t different.’

‘Of course,’ Erik dipped his head in agreement. ‘But then no one ever said that that had to be a bad thing.’

*****

_‘You seen Xavier lately?’ McCone demanded. He sat behind the large mahogany desk in his office, looking down at the latest stack of reports instead of at Erik, whom he had called in mere minutes before. ‘Spoken to him, maybe?’_

_Erik gritted his teeth. ‘No,’ he said flatly, narrowing his eyes. ‘Not since – not since he was requisitioned by Detective Bryant and Detective Jameson.’_

_McCone glanced up. ‘The Jordan case, yes?’_

_Erik instantly went on guard. ‘… Yes,’ he said carefully. It wasn’t like McCone to burden himself with knowing the finer details of their cases, particularly ones that had been outsourced from other stations._

_‘Hmm,’ McCone frowned, looking somewhat troubled._

_‘What is it?’ Erik asked, trying to suppress his impatience when McCone did not say anything further._

_‘Well it’s just … it’s the oddest thing,’ McCone said pensively. ‘With the Jordan case. The very day that Xavier visited …’_

_‘Well?’ Erik snapped when McCone did not immediately continue._

_McCone turned to him and gave him a hard look. ‘Jordan had some sort of breakdown,’ he said bluntly. ‘It completely wrecked him. He’s gone, Lehnsherr.’_

_Erik stared at him, a cold trickle of dread running down his spine. ‘He’s dead?’ he asked in as level a voice as he could manage._

_‘Worse,’ McCone said flatly. ‘He’s a complete vegetable. The man’s a living corpse. There’s nothing left in him – not now.’_

_Erik felt his blood go cold. He did not allow his emotions to show on his face, however. ‘Do we suspect foul play?’ he asked calmly._

_McCone’s eyes met his. ‘No,’ he said, watching him carefully. ‘At least not yet. We have yet to run a full battery of tests, though, so we’ll know more when the tox-screen comes back.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘In the meantime, it would be very helpful if we could talk to Detective Xavier. Unfortunately,’ here he met Erik’s eyes again, ‘We haven’t heard from him since the night he saw Jordan. And that was – what – a week ago now?’_

_‘A few days,’ Erik said quickly, still keeping his features calm and his tone even. ‘He’s been taken ill.’_

_McCone studied him closely before letting out a huff. ‘If you say so,’ he said dubiously. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Just tell him to get in here as soon as you see him, alright?’_

_Erik nodded grimly before rising from his seat and heading towards the door._

_‘Oh, and Lehnsherr?’_

_Erik paused and turned back around again._

_‘Tell Xavier to come in soon, okay?’ McCone shifted uncomfortably on his seat. ‘Only I’m having dinner with the councilman tomorrow evening and I’m sure he’ll be very interested to know what’s going on.’_

_Erik gave McCone a stiff nod before turning and walking out of the office. He waited until the door was shut firmly behind him before he allowed himself to clench his fists and grit his teeth together. After a moment, he straightened up and, heading towards his desk, he grabbed hold of his coat, pulled his car keys out of his desk drawer, and then headed outside._

_Twenty minutes later he was hammering on the front door of the Xaviers’ house, his body pulled close and his jaw tight._

_‘Charles,’ he growled, knocking his fist against the door. ‘Charles, open the goddamn door, I know you’re in there.’_

_A minute later there was a noise from inside and after that there was a scrabbling sound from the keyhole and, two seconds later, the door opened and there stood Charles, his hair mussed and with stubble on his cheeks, the smell of sour wine strong on his breath._

_‘Oh,’ he said when he saw Erik. ‘It’s you.’_

_Erik simply glared at him and shoved his way inside the house. Charles stared after him for a moment before shutting the door and then moving to follow him. He was abruptly forced to a stop, however, when Erik swung around, a look of deep anger and agitation on his face._

_‘Did you do it?’ he demanded roughly._

_Charles blinked. ‘What?’_

_‘Did you do it?’ Erik repeated, his expression growing fiercer. When Charles continued to look at him blankly he reached out in agitation and grasped him by the shoulders, shaking him. ‘Charles, **did you do it**?’_

_‘Do **what** exactly?’ Charles demanded, looking irritated. He glanced around vaguely, as if searching for a glass of wine._

_‘Jordan, Charles,’ Erik’s voice was ragged. He pulled himself away from Charles and ran a shaky hand through his hair. ‘I’m talking about Maxwell Jordan and the fact that he’s a fucking **vegetable**.’_

_It took a moment for Charles to process the words through his haze. ‘What?’ he said, frowning._

_‘Jordan’s mind has gone, Charles,’ Erik said tiredly. ‘His **mind**. He’s practically **dead**.’_

_Charles abruptly went very still. ‘Oh my god,’ he breathed, his eyes wide. ‘It’s true. They did it. They really did it. It’s **him**.’_

_But Erik wasn’t listening. ‘They’re asking for you back at the office, Charles – they want a statement from you. I’ll put McCone off for a few days but before I go any further I need to know—’ He took a shaky breath. ‘ **Did you do it?** ’_

_Charles, who had been biting his lip pensively, suddenly froze. Slowly, very, very slowly, he turned to face Erik. When he spoke his voice was icy. ‘ **What?** ’_

_‘I want to know,’ Erik said through gritted teeth. ‘Did. You. Do. It?’_

_‘Erik,’ Charles blinked. He shook his head, looking stunned. ‘Erik, how can you even—‘_

_‘His **mind** is **gone** , Charles!’ Erik snapped, his eyes looking slightly wild. ‘His mind is **gone** and **you** were the last person to see him. What am I supposed to think?’_

_‘You …’ Charles stared at him, his eyes wide, as he shook his head. ‘Erik – I promise you – I didn’t do this. I **promise**.’_

_Erik studied him for a moment, his face still haggard in the yellow glare of the light bulb. Then he sighed and his shoulders slumped. ‘Okay,’ he said tiredly. ‘I believe you—’_

_‘You should!’ Charles snapped._

_Erik continued with gritted teeth. ‘I **believe** that you didn’t intend any harm—’_

_Charles jerked back as if slapped._

_‘—and that you didn’t know what you were doing—’_

_‘Erik,’ Charles was staring at him as if he was seeing him for the first time. He took a step back. ‘Erik, what—’_

_‘—but you were **upset** , Charles.’ Here Erik took a desperate step forward, reaching out with his hand but Charles angled himself away. ‘You were upset and you didn’t know what you were doing—’_

_‘No, I knew **exactly** what I was doing,’ Charles said coldly. ‘Because **I didn’t do it**.’_

_‘—You couldn’t control it,’ Erik hurried on, deliberately ignoring him. ‘You didn’t mean to do it but you were so upset by what you thought he’d said—’_

_Charles shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, looking angry now. ‘No, you’re twisting things, you’re not **listening** to me!’_

_‘Charles, it’s okay,’ Erik said desperately. ‘I understand – it’s alright, no one will know—’_

_‘There’s nothing **to** know,’ Charles insisted. ‘Which you would know if you cared to listen to me!’_

_‘Charles—’_

_‘ **No!** ’ Charles had reached the end of his tether. ‘No, Erik, that’s **enough**!’ His hands were clenched and he was breathing hard, his face flushed red and not just from the wine. He and Erik just stood there staring at each other for a moment. Then Charles stood aside and looked away. ‘I want you to leave,’ he said, his voice trembling with suppressed anger. _

_Erik blinked, surprised. ‘What?’_

_‘I said get out,’ Charles’s tone was steely. He looked up and met Erik’s eyes. ‘Don’t make me make you, Erik.’_

_Erik stared at him for a minute longer. Then, with a barely-suppressed snarl, he swung around and stalked to the door, jerked it open and then walked out, slamming the door behind him._

_Charles stood in the same spot, silent, for a moment. Then he turned around and went in search of another wine bottle._

_Their relationship never recovered._

*****

_Four months later, Erik arrived at work one day to hear that his partner of three and a half years, Detective Charles Xavier, had suddenly resigned from the force._

_He was the last one in station to find out._

*****

‘What about you?’ Charles asked quietly. ‘What happened to you after I left?’

Erik shrugged. ‘Honestly?’ he said. ‘Nothing much. I continued at the station until I didn’t, and that’s all there is to say about it, really.’

Charles gave him a flat look. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘Ten years, and that’s all you have to say for yourself?’

‘There’s really not all that much to say,’ Erik said gruffly. He gave Charles a sideways look. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that I never took a partner after you, though.’

Charles snorted. ‘I suppose I put you off completely, didn’t I?’ 

‘In a way,’ Erik said honestly. ‘But, to be frank, I knew that after you no one would ever match up, so I didn’t even bother trying.’

Charles looked at him, his expression indecipherable. After a moment he let out a wry chuckle. ‘You know, perhaps we both really have changed,’ he said with a laugh. ‘You never would have admitted that ten years ago.’

‘Yes, well,’ Erik glanced down at the ground and scuffed his foot against the earth with a scowl. ‘Ten years ago I was an idiot.’

‘You won’t hear any different from me,’ Charles said with a half-hearted attempt at levity.

Erik shook his head. ‘I did a lot of foolish things back then,’ he said grimly. ‘And ever since then I’ve always wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t driven you away.’

‘You mean with the case?’ Charles asked gently.

Erik met his eyes. ‘I mean with _everything_ ,’ he said.

*****

_‘He’s not here.’_

_Erik blinked, staring over the threshold at Raven as if he didn’t understand what she was saying. ‘What?’_

_‘I said he’s not here.’ Raven leaned against the door and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I’m guessing that **is** why you’re here, isn’t it? Somehow I doubt it’s because you want to see **me**.’_

_There was a strange tone to her voice but Erik couldn’t think about it now. He frowned and shook his head. ‘I need to see him,’ he said impatiently. ‘As soon as possible. He’s – Christ, Raven, he’s really fucked things up this time. He’s fucking **quit** the damn police force.’_

_Raven let out a harsh, dry laugh. ‘Oh, he’s **really** on a roll, isn’t he?’ she said, sounding completely unsurprised by Erik’s announcement. She glanced up at Erik’s uncomprehending face. ‘Well, come in then,’ she said lightly, turning around and leading the way in. ‘You may as well make yourself at home.’_

_‘Will Charles be here soon?’ Erik demanded, even as he let himself in._

_‘I’m sure he’ll be here eventually,’ Raven said vaguely. She led him into the sitting room, but she didn’t sit down._

_After a moment Erik turned to look at her. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked brusquely, not really in any sort of mood to hear a real answer._

_‘Oh, you know, the usual,’ Raven said vaguely, before clarifying with a meaningful look, ‘ **Charles**.’ Her voice was tinged with bitterness._

_Erik gave her a wary look but he was far too caught up in his own thoughts and troubles to enquire any further._

_Casting a distracted look around at the room, his eyes were suddenly drawn to something that glinted at him from the foot of one of the armchairs. Frowning, he took a step forward and, reaching down, he grasped hold of the object before straightening up._

_It was a half-empty bottle of gin._

_‘What?’ Erik stared at the bottle. ‘What is this doing here?’_

_Raven glanced over at him and then snorted. ‘That? That’s one of Charles’s. Yeah,’ she smiled wryly at him when his eyebrows drew together, ‘You’ll probably find them in every room of the house by now. You can have the rest of that, if you like,’ she added. ‘You’ll probably be doing him a favour.’_

_Erik clutched the bottle tightly and gritted his teeth. ‘It’s that serious?’ he asked, his throat tight._

_Raven huffed out a laugh. ‘Yes. No. Maybe. Who knows with him?’_

_Erik clenched his fists. Looking down at the bottle, he frowned, and then resolutely unscrewed the top and took a deep gulp of it, grimacing as he drew away. When he glanced up again, Raven was once again looking at him with that same odd expression on her face that she had greeted him at the door with._

_‘What?’ he demanded, feeling suddenly very off-kilter._

_‘He’s leaving you,’ she said bluntly._

_Erik froze. ‘What?’ His voice was cold._

_‘Charles,’ Raven said conversationally, her face expressionless even as she watched him. ‘He’s drifting away from you. As a partner, as a friend … whatever the hell you are now. He’s leaving you. He’s already half way there, by the looks of things. Heck,’ she turned away with a bitter smile, ‘He’d probably leave me too, if he could … that is, if his fucking conscience didn’t get in the way.’_

_‘Quiet,’ Erik snapped, his insides tight and leaden._

_‘What?’ Raven’s face was pink now and she tossed her head. ‘It’s true! You can’t say that you don’t see it. He was always going to leave. I’ve been waiting for this, Erik, and now it’s happening.’ She shrugged, the move not as nonchalant as she seemed to hope it was. ‘He’s quit his job, he’s quitting you … Sooner or later he’ll be done with this place too, you’ll see.’_

_‘Stop it,’ Erik growled. ‘You’re wrong. Charles belongs here.’_

_Raven let out a dry laugh at that. ‘Do you really think that?’ she demanded scornfully. She paused and then sighed when Erik didn’t answer. ‘Do you honestly think that Charles belongs here, Erik?’ she asked in a quieter voice. ‘Honestly? Because he doesn’t. He’s never fit in here and you know it. You’ve **seen** it – I know you’ve seen it – how **bored** he is. How **stifled**.’ She shook her head. ‘No, the best thing for him is to get out of here as soon as he can. Get out of this place, out of this **life**. And do you know what? **He** knows that too.’_

_‘No,’ Erik bit out tightly. He was still clutching the gin bottle in his hands. ‘No, you’re wrong about that. Charles wouldn’t just leave like that. He has – he has …’_

_‘You?’ Raven put her hands on her hips. ‘Not lately, if what I’ve heard is true. His job? Not anymore. Me?’ she let out a bitter laugh. ‘Yes – the albatross around his neck. Me pulling in one direction and he the other and the both of us still stuck here, unable to leave.’ She paused. ‘Not for long though,’ she said quietly, so low that Erik could barely hear her. Then, before Erik could say anything, she turned back to him. ‘You won’t know this, but – this is what he **does** , Erik. He goes off into his own head and he doesn’t like what he finds so he drinks and drinks and when even that gets too much he just drops everything and ups and leaves. Hell,’ she gave a dry laugh. ‘Why the heck do you think he and I came here in the first place?’ She bit her lip. ‘The first time it was because his mother married my father. The time after that it was him running away to college. Last time it was because his mother had died.’ She gazed up at Erik with weary eyes. ‘He’s done this before, Erik,’ she said quietly. ‘He’s done it before and he’s damn well going to do it again.’_

_Erik’s jaw tightened and he looked away. After a moment he grimaced and took another swig of gin. ‘So what do you expect me to do?’ he all but snarled out. He still didn’t look at her._

_There was a light touch on his hand and Erik almost flinched. His hand jerked slightly but his face remained expressionless._

_‘Here,’ Raven said softly. ‘Have another drink.’_

_Erik met her eyes._

*****

_Charles wandered in, stumbling slightly as he slid in through the front door._

_‘Oops,’ he murmured as he stubbed his toe against a stool. Humming lightly to himself he strolled in, wondering vaguely whether he had left anything to drink in the hallway. A moment later, he changed his mind and started to slowly climb up the stairs._

_As he headed towards his bedroom, however, he heard a noise come from Raven’s room. He paused. He took a step closer to her door. Then he frowned and leaned closer. ‘ **Erik?** ’_

_There was a sudden hush from the other side of the door. Charles, his mind foggy, stood there blinking in puzzlement as hurried noises came from the room beyond._

_Eventually, there was a click and the door inched open and there stood Raven._

_Charles blinked. ‘Raven?’ he said foggily. ‘Why are you wearing a sheet?’_

_There was a flush high on Raven’s cheeks but she nevertheless raised her chin defiantly when she saw him. ‘Charles,’ she said challengingly, although there was a slight tremor in her voice. ‘Did you want something?’_

_Charles wrinkled his nose dazedly. ‘Sorry … thought I heard Erik.’_

_Raven’s lip trembled for a moment before she stilled it. ‘Oh,’ she said, standing taller and clutching the bed sheet closer to her. ‘Yes. Erik?’ She turned around and glanced behind her._

_There was a muffled curse and then, a moment later, Erik was at the door at Raven’s side._

_Charles was silent for a moment, a small frown on his face. ‘You’re not wearing a shirt,’ he said quietly._

_‘Charles …’ Erik’s voice was tight._

_‘Why are you not …’ Charles shook his head, his eyebrows still drawn together. He took a step back. ‘Erik …’_

_‘This is not what it looks li—’_

_‘My **sister** ,’ Charles was staring at Erik as if he had never seen him before. ‘You – with my **baby sister**.’_

_‘Charles, I—’_

_‘Oh for Christ’s sake!’ Raven burst out, drawing the both of their attention. ‘I’m not a **baby** , Charles!’_

_‘Evidently not!’ Charles snapped. His eyes were clear and alert now. He glared once at Raven before turning back to Erik. ‘But how could **you** —’_

_‘Don’t **dismiss** me!’ Raven snarled, shoving Erik back and pushing her way to stand in front of Charles, forcing him to keep his eyes on her. ‘Don’t you **dare** dismiss me, Charles! Not now.’_

_‘But Erik—’_

_‘No!’ Raven hissed. ‘Not Erik – **me**.’ She clenched her fists at her sides, her blanket now held up purely by the folds and pure will. ‘This isn’t on Erik, Charles – it’s on **me**. **I** did this. **I** made it happen.’_

_Charles held himself very still. When he spoke his voice was very cool. ‘Have a care, Raven,’ he said quietly. ‘Don’t say something that can’t be taken back.’_

_‘Why?’ Raven’s voice, although defiant, was almost a sob. ‘I’ve already **done** something that can’t be taken back!’_

_Charles’s face was expressionless, but his eyes were hard. ‘Oh?’_

_‘I – This is on you, Charles,’ Raven sounded near tears. ‘This – this is **your** fault.’ She let out a dry sob. ‘All I want is for you to leave me alone. Why can’t you just treat me like an **adult**?’_

_Charles regarded her silently for a moment. His eyes went from Raven to Erik and then back again. ‘Well,’ he said after a moment. ‘Luckily that won’t be an issue for you any more.’ And with one last cold look at the pair of them, he turned on his heel and walked away from them, his movements completely steady and lacking the sluggishness he had borne less than ten minutes before. He reached his bedroom without so much as a glance backwards and shut the door firmly behind him, leaving Raven and Erik to stare blankly at the closed door._

_The next morning, when Raven ventured out alone, the door was open._

_Charles, however, was gone._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence and disturbing imagery

**THE END OF THE SABRETOOTH KILLER  
**

**Local Detectives end the reign of terror of a monster**

  
  


The serial-killer Victor Creed, known to the public as the “Sabretooth” killer, was yesterday pronounced dead at the scene of an abandoned farmhouse, where he was discovered hiding by two members of the local law-enforcement, Detective Erik Lehnsherr, and his partner Detective Charles Xavier.  
  
Although no details have as yet been revealed, it is believed that Creed attacked the two officers as they searched his home yesterday afternoon, an attack that resulted in his death and only minor injuries for Detectives Xavier and Lehnsherr.  
  
“We are extremely lucky to have such brave and dedicated men in our law-enforcement offices,” said a local councilman of the heroic pair. “Hopefully the public will take heart from this news and will sleep safer in their beds at night, knowing that this monster can never hurt anyone again.”  
  
Detectives Xavier and Lehnsherr were unavailable for comment, although more details are expected to follow …   
  
---  
  
*****

‘Do you think we would have solved it by now?’ Charles asked, his gaze distant. ‘If I had stayed? If I hadn’t left all those years ago – would we have finished this?’

Erik glanced at him sharply. ‘This isn’t your fault, Charles,’ he said seriously, leaning in towards him. ‘This … What happened wasn’t on you. It never was.’

‘But I left,’ Charles said softly, eyes still fixed somewhere far away. ‘I knew that the killer was still out there and yet I still left. I failed them, Erik. Angel Salvadore, Armando Munoz, and all those others – the ones that we found and those that we didn’t. Mutants, no different from us except that they were unlucky enough to have visible mutations instead of invisible ones. I had it in my hands to bring their killer to justice and instead of staying on and hunting that bastard down, I just … left.’

‘You were in a difficult position,’ Erik argued, shaking his head. ‘Both at work and at home. You – you didn’t receive the support that you deserved. _I_ didn’t support you the way that you deserved. I was your partner and I _knew_ you and still I didn’t believe you. I didn’t _want_ to believe you.’ Erik took a long, ragged breath at that. ‘I – I owe you an apology for that, Charles. It’s long overdue, perhaps, but I need to say it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I—’ He stopped abruptly and turned his face away.

Charles didn’t say anything for the longest moment. ‘We all make mistakes,’ he said at last. ‘You didn’t believe me, and I … I walked away. You can’t know how much I regret that now. I don’t regret the things that I did after I left – I’m _proud_ of the things I did after I left – but that doesn’t mean that I do not regret leaving. Walking away from the case … that was wrong. It was an act of cowardice, and I am sorry for it.’

‘And us?’ Erik asked quietly, looking into Charles’s eyes. ‘Was it a mistake to walk away from us? From Raven – from _me_?’

Charles turned his head away. ‘I don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘All I know is that – when it came to the three of us – I did what I needed to do. I did the only thing I _could_ do. The case, though …’ he shook his head. ‘I failed them, Erik. Angel, and Armando and all those others that we never found. I failed them that day and on every day since. I failed them the day I walked away.’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Erik insisted, coming to stand closer to Charles, his hand reaching out as if to clasp him by the arm. ‘I was the one responsible for your walking away. That failure is _my_ burden to bear, Charles, not yours. You did what you had to do. There was no proof of there being anyone other than Creed who was responsible for the murders and there was no one left who was willing to investigate any further. As far as we were aware, the case was closed. It was _closed_ , Charles, do you understand?’ 

‘Yes,’ Charles said quietly. ‘But that didn’t stop me from knowing.’ He paused. ‘And it didn’t stop _you_ from searching.’

Erik looked away, his face twisted into something stark and tired. ‘ _Guilt_ made me continue searching,’ he said quietly, looking up to meet Charles’s eyes. ‘And I don’t mean guilt that I abandoned the case. It was guilt that I abandoned _you_ , Charles. _That’s_ what kept me going all these years – the thought that I failed you back then and the need to make it right.’

Charles swallowed. ‘Any luck there?’ he asked, his voice deceptively light.

Erik’s shoulders slumped. ‘No,’ he said tiredly, shaking his head. ‘Not really.’ He paused and then corrected himself. ‘Not for a long time, at any rate. For the longest period there was nothing but vague inconsistencies and then after that it was just dead-end after dead-end.’

‘Until …’

‘Until,’ Erik dipped his head in acknowledgement, ‘I decided that I needed to look backwards before I could look forwards.’

A look of comprehension entered Charles’s eyes. ‘You looked into the old case files,’ he said, nodding to himself. Then he frowned. ‘But – we did that. After the Angel Salvadore case – we went back and looked at the older case files. What—’

But Erik was shaking his head. ‘We looked at the case files that they _gave_ us,’ he corrected. ‘We put in a request and they pulled whatever files they thought were relevant. But Charles – they didn’t _know_ what they were looking for. _We_ did. We asked them for cases where the victim was maimed or unusually disfigured by the perpetrator, but what we should have been asking for was for victims who were unusual-looking even _prior_ to their murders.’

Charles leaned forward. ‘Do you really mean—’

Erik grimaced. ‘Yes. It was that simple. It took me far too long to realise it, but that was all I needed. I looked into whatever I could get my hands on, talked to whomever I could find …’

‘It must have taken a lot of time,’ Charles murmured, watching Erik closely.

Erik’s lips tightened. ‘It did. But that’s irrelevant.’

‘Yes,’ Charles agreed. ‘Perhaps it is.’ He sighed. ‘What did you find, Erik?’

Erik’s expression flickered. ‘Nothing … solid,’ he said at last, looking troubled. ‘Nothing _tangible_. But – Charles, there was always _something_. They were all mutants, that much is certain. Age, race, social class – they all differed there. But they were all _mutants_ , Charles. And the ones whose families I could trace, the ones that were still here – and I can’t tell you how few there were left – they couldn’t remember very much, but the ones who _did_ … well, they all said the same thing.’ He met Charles’s eyes. ‘That shortly before their deaths, the victims met someone – a king, they said – and after that they became very, _very_ afraid.’

Charles had gone completely still. ‘Christ,’ he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘It’s him. My god … I was right. Erik. It’s _him_. It’s the _Black King_!’

Erik held his eyes for a moment before slowly nodding. ‘Yes,’ he said gravely. ‘Yes, I know.’

‘My God,’ Charles ran a trembling hand over his face. ‘All this time … I _knew_ it, Erik, I _knew_ that he was at the centre of this. I knew it from the moment I heard his name.’

‘I know,’ Erik said again, nodding. ‘And I should have listened, but I didn’t. At least, not at first.’ He met Charles’s eyes. ‘I did in the end, though. You were right all along, Charles. I shouldn’t have questioned your judgement. You were right and I should have accepted that.’

Charles let out a long, shaky breath. ‘You have no idea how good it is to hear that,’ he murmured, closing his eyes and turning away. A moment later he straightened up and opened his eyes again. ‘So,’ he said, his voice calm and even despite the odd gleam of his eyes. ‘What do we do now?’

Erik watched him for a moment. Then he took a deep breath. ‘Well,’ he said slowly. ‘There’s something that I probably need to show you …’

*****

__  
**Eleven and a half years ago,**  


_‘So we’re agreed then – we don’t call for backup unless we both think that it’s absolutely necessary.’_

_Erik turned away from where he was studying the isolated farmhouse where Creed was said to be hiding out and instead focused his gaze on Charles. His eyes were cool and grey and gave nothing away. ‘Only if you’re okay with that,’ he said neutrally after a moment of looking at Charles, his expression noncommittal._

_Charles raised an eyebrow, looking deeply unimpressed. ‘Believe it or not, I have done this sort of thing before, Erik,’ he said dryly. ‘I’ve even done this with **you** before. It is part of the job, you know. Honestly, if I didn’t know that this was simply your way of saying that you cared, I would be insulted. Clearly you have a **very** low opinion of my ability to take care of myself.’_

_‘Not at all,’ Erik said smoothly, unruffled by the accusation. ‘All I am saying is that it wouldn’t be the least sensible thing in the world to call for backup, if you’re feeling at all uneasy about this. After all, we both know just how dangerous Creed can be – especially to our kind.’_

_Charles sighed and somehow refrained from rolling his eyes. ‘Of course I know,’ he said patiently. ‘But I refuse to waste police time when we’re not even certain that this is the place. We were wrong about the last location, **and** the one before that. This one isn’t any different. And even if it is …’ he shrugged. ‘We both know that having backup would be more of a hindrance than a help in this situation. Remember, we still don’t know whether Creed is a mutant or not, Erik. It’s entirely possible that in the course of the arrest Creed might put up a bit of a … **display** , and we simply cannot risk that happening in front of other people.’ _

_‘You mean that it might cause a bit of a problem if our perp suddenly started moving things with the power of his mind or if he disappeared into thin air right in front of our backup,’ Erik said dryly. He shook his head. ‘Eminently practical as always, Charles.’_

_‘I’m going to take that as a compliment,’ Charles said easily, before turning his attention back to the farmhouse. ‘Besides,’ he said after a moment, ‘We don’t even know if anyone is in there.’_

_‘Can’t you sense anyone?’ Erik asked, a note of curiosity entering his voice._

_Charles frowned and shook his head. ‘N-o,’ he said reluctantly, sighing. ‘I can’t sense much of anything, I’m afraid. I’m not sure whether to be grateful for that or not.’_

_‘Grateful that Creed’s not there or grateful that he doesn’t have anyone locked away in the basement?’_

_Charles shrugged. ‘Either. Both.’ He sighed. ‘Both options are equally desirable and abhorrent.’ His mouth twisted into a grimace. ‘But I suppose if there **is** something in his basement then I would much rather that it was alive than dead.’_

_‘Well then,’ Erik reached for the car door and pushed it open. ‘There’s no use waiting around.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Let’s find out.’_

*****

‘You know, I always _did_ imagine you as a P.I.’

Erik gave Charles a look but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. ‘Is that so?’

Charles shrugged. ‘You always did look like you’d stepped right out of a Raymond Chandler novel,’ he said lightly, glancing up with interest at the sign over the door that they stood in front of.

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh?’ he said dryly as he moved to unlock the door. ‘I’ve personally always thought that I looked nothing like your average femme fatale.’

‘Oh you know,’ Charles gestured vaguely, ‘All you need to do is throw on a blue dress and a red wig and you’d give Gilda a run for her money.’

He and Erik shared a quick grin.

‘Well,’ Erik said after a moment, holding the door open. ‘Come in then.’

Charles followed him into the tiny, cramped office and looked around curiously. ‘Well,’ he said lightly, peering around at the room. ‘It’s certainly … cosy.’

Erik let out a snort. ‘Tact, Charles? Things certainly have changed.’

The corner of Charles’s mouth twitched and he shrugged. ‘For the both of us, I think.’

Erik watched him impassively before jerking his head to the side and turning around. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘This is what I wanted to show you.’

‘You mean you didn’t bring me here to critique your interior decorating skills?’ Charles murmured, glancing around him even as he obligingly moved to follow Erik. ‘Because, just for the record, I think the whole purple and magenta colour scheme you have going on is _very_ adventurous.’

‘Alright, alright,’ Erik grumbled, although the corner of his mouth twitched up. ‘Never mind that. Now come on.’ And he pushed open a door to the side of the office that Charles had previously assumed belonged to an adjoining bathroom. ‘In here.’

Charles obediently followed through – and then paused. ‘Erik?’ he said in a strangely nonchalant voice. ‘This … is where you live.’

Erik simply shrugged. ‘It didn’t make sense to pay rent for two places,’ he said, unconcerned. ‘And it helps on the days when I can’t let things go.’

‘Hmm,’ Charles didn’t say anything but he looked carefully at the room around him. He paused when his eyes fell on the bed tucked into the furthest corner of the room. ‘And this – this was what you wanted to show me?’

Erik let out a snort. ‘Hardly.’ He turned to one end of the room and then held out a hand. Charles started in surprise when the entire wall peeled away to reveal –

‘A secret room,’ Charles breathed, moving forward. ‘And – Erik, you wonderful thing – a fake metal wall!’

‘It was one of my brighter ideas,’ Erik agreed, unable to hide the proud look on his face.

‘Still,’ Charles suddenly looked troubled. ‘The fact that you went to the trouble …’

Erik grimaced and met his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said grimly. ‘It’s rather telling, isn’t it?’

‘Are you being watched?’ Charles asked carefully.

Erik shook his head. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Not any more. There was a time … but not now. Although,’ his eyes narrowed. ‘Now that Detectives _MacTaggert_ and _Levine_ have dragged us in …’

‘Someone might get worried,’ Charles finished, frowning deeply. He sighed. ‘It really is a pity that the good Detectives heard that I was back in town. We might have had more time, otherwise.’

‘We’ll just have to make do,’ Erik said firmly. He gestured forward with his hand. ‘Shall we?’

Charles grinned, the enthusiasm returning to his face. ‘Come into my parlour said the spider to the fly?’

‘It’s hardly a parlour,’ Erik grunted. ‘Now are you coming or not?’

Charles nodded and walked after him. He paused on the threshold, however, looking around the room in astonishment. ‘Erik …’ 

‘I know it’s a little too neat and orderly for your tastes …’ Erik began, his tone cool and even. ‘But I left a side of the wall for you to fill out in whatever haphazard way you want – and there’s always the white boards …’

But Charles wasn’t listening. He was walking up to the closest wall and examining one of the hundreds of neat and strategically placed photographs and notes that covered it.

‘How—’ Charles began but then swallowed and started again. ‘How long, Erik?’

Erik looked at him with an undecipherable expression before sighing. ‘Six years,’ he said quietly. ‘Almost seven.’ He nodded at the wall. ‘Some of these notes have been with me longer than I’ve had this building.’

‘I can tell,’ Charles said lightly, still staring at the walls in front of him. There were pictures of crime scenes, pages from Angel Salvadore’s diary, post-it notes, torn out newspaper articles, copies of police reports, and, between these, large pieces of A4 paper with only a few words written on them in thick, black marker. _The Black King_ was at the centre. _Genosha??_ was not far off either.

Charles stared at these for a long while. Then he turned away and wandered over to one of the newer sections of Erik’s installation, where there were fewer notes on the wall. He paused and frowned down at it, his hand coming up to brush against a pink post-it note that was pressed neatly into the space. The words ‘ _White woman … woman in white? Accomplice??_ ’ were written on it in a fine, almost calligraphic hand. ‘What’s this?’ he asked, frowning. ‘The woman in white?’

Erik came to stand at his shoulder. ‘A lead,’ he said quietly, staring down at the post-it note with a look of intense concentration. ‘My most recent one, in fact. A witness – a homeless man, half-asleep by the looks of things – recalled catching a glimpse of a woman at the scene of the latest murder.’

‘Warren Worthington,’ Charles nodded. ‘I remember. Could the witness recall anything else?’

Erik shook his head. ‘No,’ he said grimly. ‘He wasn’t very clear – not a good witness, to say the least. Which, of course, meant that the men on the scene didn’t pay him any attention … they didn’t even take a statement.’ His lip curled. ‘Amateurs.’

Charles looked thoughtful. ‘No statement …’ he repeated slowly. ‘So … no one apart from us actually knows about this woman in white?’

Erik watched him, assessing. ‘No,’ he said, equally slow. ‘It wasn’t recorded.’

‘Hmm,’ Charles looked thoughtfully at the wall around him. ‘That might have been a stroke of luck for us.’

Erik frowned. ‘How so?’

Charles turned to him with an almost apologetic look on his face. ‘I can’t be sure,’ he said quietly. ‘But I assume that it’s for the same reason that you have a secret room in your apartment covered by a false metal wall.’

Erik grimaced and turned away. ‘Fuck,’ he said quietly. 

‘Yes,’ Charles said dryly. ‘Quite.’

‘You’re not just worried about outside eyes. You think the station’s compromised,’ Erik said quietly. ‘You think they’re dirty.’

‘Not all of them,’ Charles replied, his voice just as quiet. ‘Just – some of them. Maybe even just one. But then one is all it would take.’

‘You didn’t get a read on anyone when you are at the station?’ Erik leaned forward intently. ‘Nothing at all?’

Charles grimaced and shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said ruefully. ‘It wasn’t a good time – only a few people were in the office, and besides, I was far too busy dealing with Detectives MacTaggert and Levine to do anything more than a cursory sweep.’

‘Damn,’ Erik muttered under his breath. He glared at the wall, troubled. ‘Are you sure that someone in the department is involved? That they’re covering things up for the Black King?’

‘I’m not sure of anything,’ Charles admitted. ‘But it makes sense. How all those cases were covered up back in the day, how there’s no record of any witnesses at all, how every single one of our lines of investigation met dead ends … It just makes sense, Erik. Frankly, the only other explanation would be—’ Charles went completely still.

‘What?’ Erik straightened up, leaning forward intently. ‘What is it, Charles?’

‘The only other explanation,’ Charles repeated, extremely slowly, ‘Would be that someone is making it _seem_ like there’s a mole. That someone had the ability to ensure that no one saw anything that they weren’t meant to and that there were never any witnesses. Someone with the _literal_ ability to do that. Which means …’

‘Charles,’ Erik said tightly. ‘Are you saying that we are dealing with another telepath?’

Charles’s eyes returned to the pink post-it note on the wall and he frowned. ‘I don’t know,’ he said slowly. ‘But I would very much like to find out.’

*****

_They were only a few yards away from the farmhouse when Charles suddenly halted. ‘Wait,’ he said, going completely still. ‘I’m getting something.’_

_Erik immediately went on alert. ‘Creed?’ he asked quietly, tightening his grip on his handgun._

_Charles shook his head, frowning. ‘No … I don’t think so. It feels like – animals.’_

_‘Animals?’ Erik raised an eyebrow._

_‘Yes,’ Charles nodded, still concentrating. ‘Maybe – dogs? Or rats?’ He shrugged at Erik’s sceptical expression. ‘I don’t do animals,’ he said blandly. ‘Raven’s the one who always wanted a puppy for Christmas, not me.’_

_Erik looked at him for a moment before his focus returned to the job at hand. ‘You sure it’s empty?’ he asked, nodding his head towards the building._

_‘Y-es,’ Charles said again, inclining his head with a frown. ‘There’s nothing human in there, at any rate.’_

_Erik nodded to himself. ‘Right,’ his head snapped up and he turned to Charles. ‘You take the outside, I’ll see if it’s all clear inside.’_

_Charles immediately frowned. ‘I don’t think it’s wise to separate,’ he said, narrowing his eyes at Erik._

_‘You said it yourself, Charles,’ Erik said smoothly. ‘There’s no one inside.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not coddling you. At this moment the outside is more dangerous than the inside.’_

_Charles glared at Erik before letting out a huff and nodding. ‘Go,’ he said, relenting. ‘I’ll clear the sheds and keep watch.’_

_‘Wait for me before you search the fields,’ Erik warned. ‘And keep your gun up – I mean it, Charles. Oh, and—’ he reached up and tapped his forehead. ‘Keep in touch.’ At Charles’s nod, he raised his gun once again and approached the farmhouse, the whole of his attention now focused on his task._

_Charles watched until Erik disappeared into the house, the locks obviously doing little to keep him out. He waited for a beat and then turned around to glance at the area around him. Deciding to investigate the nearest outhouse, he straightened up and reached out with his senses, taking a moment to appreciate the familiar sensation of Erik’s mind brushing against his, before searching further._

_… There was nothing. As far as he could tell, the place was completely deserted, unless one counted the local wildlife that had no doubt occupied the area in the absence of any human settlers._

_Charles ran a hand through his hair and then glanced down at himself. He grimaced at the gun in his hand, considering it, but after a moment’s hesitation he tightened his grip on it and started to move forward, heading towards the shed he had singled out._

_He crept towards the edge of the building, moving warily despite knowing full well that it was empty. He calmly moved towards the door – conveniently ajar, he thought wryly – before slipping through it, his gun raised as he cleared the room. Just as he had expected, it was empty. Still, he stayed in the shed for a moment, allowing his eyes to run through its contents. It was mostly bare, except for a wooden trough and heaps of hay scattered over the floor._

_Charles started to draw back but then his eyes snagged on the wall to his left. Frowning, he took a few steps forward and peered closer. There on the wall – on all the walls, now that he peered past the gloom – were strange gouges … claw marks, Charles decided, gazing at them dispassionately. Deep ones. He reached out and ran a single finger over the groove and his frown deepened. The walls of the building were made of solid brick, not plaster like he had assumed. His expression darkened. Whatever – or, as the five claw marks suggested, **who** ever – had made those claw marks was powerful, possessing both strength and claws that could likely shred skin. _

_That likely **had** shred skin._

_Charles’s breath came out as a soft hiss and he raised his hand to his temple. ‘Erik,’ he murmured. ‘I’m beginning to think that we’ve found our guy.’_

_**I’m beginning to think that myself** , Erik’s voice was grim and held touches of disgust. **This place, Charles – it reeks of blood. Even the bedrooms and the hallways. We’ll need to get a forensics team in here as soon as we can.**_

_**Agreed,** Charles nodded. **We’ll do that as soon as we’ve cleared the area. I’ll just finish off the rest of the sheds and then we’ll meet back in front of the house in five minutes, alright?**_

_**Make it ten** , Erik said. **I haven’t gone through the basement yet.**_

_‘Ten minutes, then,’ Charles said out loud. ‘And take a flashlight with you.’ He slowly lowered his fingers from his temple and took one more look around. He frowned. Stepping forward, he swung his flashlight at the wall furthest away from the door._

_There, carved into the wall was a single word: **Genosha.**_

_Charles sucked in a quick breath. He stared at it for a long moment, his heart beating fast. Then finally, taking a step back, he slowly drew away from the walls of the shed and walked towards the door._

_He was preoccupied as he exited the shed, his thoughts on the scratches on the wall and his gun only loosely gripped in his hand, and so he did not immediately realise that he was being watched. As he took a few steps away from the threshold, however, some sort of sixth sense prickled at the back of his neck and, frowning, he turned around even as he spread his telepathy out before him._

_His telepathy registered nothing. His mind encountered nothing._

_His eyes, on the other hand, fell on the tall, hulking figure that was casually leaning against the side of the shed, head cocked and eyes glinting as he watched Charles._

_Charles stared at him. He stared back._

_Then Charles brought his gun up. ‘Mr Creed, I presume,’ he said coolly, not taking his eyes off the man in front of him. Mentally, he immediately reached out in search of Erik, trying to alert him to the danger at hand._

_The man – if indeed he was a mere man, something that the huge, hulking figure and the shaggy, animalistic features made difficult to say – shifted slightly, slowly straightening up against the wall of the shed. ‘You presume correctly,’ he said in a low, smooth voice that might have been pleasant if not for the undercurrent of an almost primal danger that reverberated through each syllable. ‘And you are?’_

_‘Detective Charles Xavier,’ Charles answered calmly, his face expressionless even as he heard Erik swear inside his mind. He pushed the connection back and instead focused wholly on the man in front of him. ‘We’ve been searching for you, Mr. Creed.’_

_Creed cocked his head, studying Charles from head to toe. ‘Why don’t you call me Victor?’ he purred, seeming to ignore the rest of Charles’s sentence. ‘I would like that.’ He smiled then, and Charles noted with wary interest that his teeth were long and sharp, just like the nails that he was absently tapping against the wall of the shed._

_‘Mr. Creed,’ Charles said again, pointedly, ‘I’m afraid that I am going to have to ask you to step away from the building and put your hands behind your head. **Now** please, Mr. Creed.’_

_‘You’ll need to call me Victor,’ Creed said idly, his tone strangely thoughtful as he ran his nails – his **claws** – up and down the building’s corner. ‘You **will** call me Victor, soon enough.’_

_‘Step away from the building, Mr. Creed,’ Charles repeated, his voice still calm and even. He mentally gave Erik a rough poke in the head, urging him to hurry, before returning to the present. ‘I need you to move away and put your hands on your head.’_

_Creed looked at him for a moment. Then, with a small, sly smile on his face, he straightened up and, his eyes fixed on Charles’s, took a deliberate step forward._

_Charles eyed him. ‘That’s far enough,’ he said neutrally. ‘Now put your—’_

_But Creed had already taken another step forward, moving closer to Charles._

_‘That’s **enough** ,’ Charles said coldly._

_Creed didn’t seem to agree; he moved forward once again, still keeping his eyes locked on Charles’s._

_Grimly, Charles allowed his left hand to leave the gun held out in front of him, and instead moved it to his head. He hadn’t been able to focus on Creed earlier – something that worried him more than he was letting on – but maybe with a bit more strength and focus …_

_But nothing. There was nothing. Charles couldn’t manage to get anywhere near Creed’s mind._

_And Creed, unfortunately, seemed to know it._

_‘What’s the matter, little telepath?’ Creed murmured sweetly, even as his mouth pulled upwards in a sickening smile. ‘Can’t you get into my head?’_

_Charles barely kept himself from reacting outwardly at that, but it was a close thing. Inside, however, his blood was running cold._

_Creed knew he was a telepath. Not only was he aware of telepathy, but he had also identified Charles as a telepath with very little difficulty. Feeling very much off-balance, Charles quickly zipped through his memory of his actions since he and Erik had arrived at the abandoned farm. Creed must have heard him speaking to Erik earlier and figured out that he was a telepath, he realised. And somehow – and Charles did not want to explore this thought right at that moment, not with the sight of Creed’s long, sharp claws in view – Creed knew himself to be completely resistant to telepathy._

_Swallowing his anxiety, Charles lowered his hand away from his temple. ‘Stay back,’ he said instead, his gun once again held firmly in between his hands and aimed straight at Creed’s broad chest. ‘I said keep back, Mr. Creed.’_

_Creed’s grin widened. ‘Or what?’ he asked silkily and, his eyes still on Charles’s, he took one deliberate step forward._

_Charles didn’t hesitate. Aiming his gun, he squeezed the trigger and watched, grimacing, as the bullet clipped Creed on the shoulder, causing him to jerk back at the impact._

_‘I said **back** ,’ Charles repeated, his eyes narrowed. He mentally scanned the area, wondering where the hell Erik had got to and hoping that he had heard the shot from wherever he was._

_Creed, meanwhile, was staring at his shoulder, watching as the blood oozed out. Then, slowly, he lifted his head away from himself and turned to face Charles, his grin wide and dangerous. Charles felt a chill run down his spine and he opened his mouth to issue another warning when he suddenly stopped and frowned. Narrowing his eyes, he focused on where he had shot Creed’s left shoulder. And then his blood ran cold._

_The bullet was being pushed out of the wound before his very eyes, the torn skin pulling back and knitting itself together, healing itself within seconds. By the time the bullet fell to the ground, completely ejected from Creed’s body, the wound had completely disappeared, the smeared blood around it the only evidence that Creed had come to any sort of harm._

_‘Fuck,’ Charles breathed, staring at the grinning figure in front of him. ‘Damn it Erik, where the fuck are you?’ **Erik, now would be a really good time to get back here**._

_‘No use calling your boyfriend now,’ Creed called from across the yard. It seemed that his powers of rejuvenation also came with a heightened sense of hearing. Probably heightened senses in general, Charles found the calm, logical side of himself thinking; something to do with the man’s bestial appearance, no doubt. ‘He’s probably encountered a few of the welcome presents I left lying around the house.’_

_Charles deliberately schooled his features, although he was well aware that if he was right and Creed’s senses really were heightened, then he would easily have picked up on Charles’s suddenly harsh breaths and the pounding of his heart. ‘What welcome presents?’ he demanded._

_Creed’s smile widened. ‘Why don’t you come back with me, sweetcheeks, and you can see for yourself?’_

_Charles’s eyes narrowed. ‘Thanks for the invitation,’ he said coldly, gun still held firm in his hands. ‘But I’d really rather not.’_

_‘That’s too bad,’ Creed didn’t sound overly disappointed. ‘I’ve never done a telepath before.’_

_Charles felt a shudder run through him but he didn’t give Creed the satisfaction of enquiring further. There was no version in which Creed’s words were indicative of anything good._

_‘There’s still time for you to end this,’ Charles said as calmly as he could manage, taking a step back as Creed took one forward. ‘Allow us to bring you in without any trouble and we’ll try to get you a reduced sentence. Think about what you’re doing here, Mr. Creed.’_

_Creed let out a bark – and it truly was a bark – of laughter. ‘I don’t think you’re in any position to bargain with me, **Detective** ,’ he chuckled darkly. ‘Maybe it should be **me** offering the same bargain to you: drop that little toy of yours and come quietly and then **maybe** I’ll go easy on you. You won’t like it if I go hard on you, Detective. That Munoz boy screamed for **hours** before I was done with him. Bled all over the floor, poor lamb.’ Creed grinned. ‘I’m sure I’ll enjoy your screams **much** better.’_

_Charles stared at Creed, his face expressionless. ‘And here I was, thinking it unfortunate that I wasn’t able to get into your head,’ he said in a quiet tone, even as his eyes remained icy cold. ‘But now I see that perhaps I was mistaken. Maybe it’s better that I can’t read you. Maybe some heads just shouldn’t be gone into, like yours.’_

_Creed grinned. ‘Don’t worry, Detective,’ he purred. ‘I’ll be getting under your skin one way or another.’_

_And then he lunged._

*****

‘Did you ever meet another telepath? While you were away, I mean. At your school or – wherever you were.’

Charles took a sip of his beer, not moving from where he was sprawled out over the sofa in Erik’s living room. ‘Not exactly,’ he said slowly, looking thoughtful. ‘I met many people with many wonderful abilities – but telepathy wasn’t really one of them. Telekinesis, yes, but not telepathy. There was one girl whom I thought had potential, but … it was complicated.’ He took another sip of his drink. ‘So what I really ought to tell you is no, I haven’t met another telepath and no, I don’t know if I will be able to overcome them if it comes down to a fight between the two of us.’

‘Who said that I wanted to know if—’ Erik began but Charles cut him off with an unimpressed look.

‘Sometimes you seem to forget, Erik – I _know_ you. I didn’t even have to read your mind to know what you were getting at.’

Erik let out a grunt and shook his head. ‘It’s been ten years since we knew each other, Charles,’ he said softly. ‘Things change.’

‘And yet,’ Charles replied, before stopping there and taking another sip of his drink. 

They sat in silence for a moment. 

‘I never asked,’ Erik said abruptly, frowning a little as he gazed down at the floor. ‘While you were away. Did you ever … Do you have …’

‘I don’t have a surprise wife and child waiting for me at home, if that’s what you’re asking,’ Charles responded dryly. ‘Never came close to it, really. It’s not something that I figured would ever happen for me, either, so I wouldn’t feel too bad if I were you. I met a lot of people – I _liked_ a lot of people – but there was never really anyone who I wanted to stick around for more than a few mornings.’ He paused and then shrugged. ‘No one who wanted _me_ to stick around for more than a few mornings, either.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Erik said.

Charles let out a humourless chuckle. ‘Really? You surprise me.’ He glanced around at the small room that they were in. ‘I don’t suppose that you …?’

Erik snorted. ‘Not for a long time,’ he admitted. ‘I tried, once, but … no one seemed to measure up.’

‘Hmm,’ Charles watched him contemplatively. ‘High standards, is it?’

‘No,’ Erik said lightly. ‘Just particular ones.’

Neither of them spoke for a minute.

‘Look at us,’ Charles said after a moment. ‘A wonderful pair we make, don’t we, Erik. A pair of lonely old fools who can’t let go of the past. What a catch we are.’

Erik shrugged. ‘At least we’ll always have each other,’ he said nonchalantly.

Charles thought about that for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘One way or another … I suppose we will.’

*****

_Charles reeled back, panting slightly, the kick from his pistol making his hand shake – although that could also be down to nerves, he thought dispassionately, watching as if from afar as Creed snarled and clawed at himself, his leap towards Charles momentarily halted by the bullets that had cut into him the instant that he had made his move. Strangely enough, knowing that Creed could not be permanently harmed by the bullets had only made it easier for Charles to pull the trigger on him._

_Creed lifted his head in a feral grin as the last of his wounds closed up and he met Charles’s gaze. ‘You’re going to pay for that, sweetheart,’ he said pleasantly, his lips peeling back in a way that emphasised the sharpness of his teeth._

_‘We could easily avoid this, Mr. Creed,’ Charles said seriously, still aiming his gun straight ahead of him. ‘All you need to do is surrender.’_

_‘And if I don’t?’_

_Charles’s jaw tensed and he tightened his grip around the gun. ‘Then I will have to shoot you. Again.’_

_Creed was laughing softly. ‘Very good,’ he said, with a teasing glint in his eye. ‘But tell me this, Detective – what happens when you run out of bullets?’_

_There was a pause._

_Their eyes met._

_And then Creed was moving, almost faster than was humanly possible, and Charles was squeezing down on the trigger of his gun, the bullets spewing out one – two – three, and they were making contact but **still** Creed kept moving, his lips pulled back in a twisted grin, and his arms were reaching out and – dear god, the **claws** –_

_Charles ducked, raising his arms to protect his face despite knowing full well that he was done for the moment that those claws made contact … but then there was nothing._

_Blinking numbly, Charles raised his head and glanced about wildly, only for his legs to go nearly weak with relief when he saw Erik standing outside the barn, his expression thunderous as he regarded Creed, his hand outstretched as he roughly dragged Creed away from Charles with his powers._

_It was the bullets, Charles realised with a start. Erik was dragging Creed away by the bullets that Charles had lodged in his chest. The moment that Erik let go, however …_

_Charles didn’t have to wait long. Erik used his power to fling Creed into the wall of the barn, releasing his hold over the bullets in Creed’s body as he did so, and watching with grim satisfaction as Creed’s head thudded against the wall with a sickening **crack**. Erik then swung his head around, his eyes zeroing in on Charles, and he started forward, a look of worry on his face._

_**Charles—** _

_**Erik! Be careful – Creed – he heals!** _

_Erik blinked, taking a moment for the words to sink in, before his eyes widened and he swung back around, his hands immediately held out in front of him and his knees bent with sudden tension._

_He wasn’t a minute too soon. The moment that Erik turned back around Creed lunged, his face twisted into a sneer, his arms outstretched and his claws fully unsheathed, aimed directly at the soft skin of Erik’s neck._

_‘Erik!’ Charles shouted, alarmed, and started forward instinctively, seeming to forget his own defencelessness._

_At the last minute, however, a metal pipe tore itself from the wall of one of the buildings and, whipping forward, snatched Creed out of the air and wrapped itself around him, curling around him like an immense boa constrictor._

_Creed let out a roar of anger and immediately started to struggle, his eyebrows drawn and his teeth bared as he glared hatefully down at Erik, who was gritting his teeth and not moving his eyes away from the scene in front of him, even as a droplet of sweat rolled down his forehead._

_Charles frowned, caught by the sight of that one small drop. Erik didn’t usually tire so easily when using his powers … usually, it took a great deal more to drain him. His trepidation mounting, he spared a glance at Creed and then slowly approached Erik._

_‘Erik?’ he asked cautiously, coming nearer. ‘Erik, are you—’ And then he saw the bloodstain blossoming across Erik’s abdomen where the shirt was torn, and – ‘Oh god, Erik, he got you.’_

_Erik grimaced. ‘It’s not bad,’ he said tightly, eyes still on Creed. ‘It’s just a scrape.’_

_Charles’s expression tightened. ‘Maybe I should have a look at it,’ he said neutrally, his eyes not leaving Erik’s side._

_‘I’m **fine** ,’ Erik snarled, even though his face was pale and his forehead was damp with sweat. ‘Just – just call for backup.’_

_Charles hesitated. ‘What are we going to—’ he paused and glanced at Creed before closing his mouth. **What are we going to do with him? Erik, he’s clearly a mutant – apart from the difficulties there’ll be in containing him there’s no telling what the repercussions will be if we bring him in. We need to talk this through.**_

_Erik gritted his teeth. **Unless you have a better plan we are doing this my way** , he bit out. His expression then faltered. **Charles – I don’t know how long I can hold him.**_

_Still Charles hesitated._

_**Charles!** Erik barked, sounding slightly panicked now. **Charles, if he gets free – you will be defenceless. You need to call in backup. Now.**_

_‘Okay,’ Charles nodded, taking a deep breath. ‘I will. Let me – let me get back to the car and call this in, okay?’_

_Erik nodded heavily._

_Charles didn’t wait another minute. He ran back to the car and made the call from the radio, speaking as clearly and succinctly as he could while doing his best not to reveal anything concrete about the situation. He ended the call moments later with the operator’s assurance that backup would be with them within ten minutes._

_Taking a deep breath, Charles raised his arm and wiped a line of sweat from off his forehead. Then, taking a moment to ensure that his gun was reloaded, he turned and jogged back to the farm. There in the distance he could see Creed’s crumpled form, surrounded by the twisted coils of Erik’s warped metal. And there, just in front of him –_

_‘Erik!’ Charles raced to his side, falling to his knees beside him and reaching out to feel his pulse. ‘Erik – are you alright?’_

_Erik didn’t immediately respond and Charles felt his own heart beat faster as he pressed his fingertips to the side of Erik’s neck, his other hand reaching out to put pressure over Erik’s wound._

_‘Come on,’ he muttered, pressing down hard and then letting out a sigh of relief as Erik’s pulse spiked and he let out a groan. ‘Come on, that’s it, Erik, come back to me …’_

_‘Charles,’ Erik rasped out, his eyes flickering open and then sharpening as his gaze fell on Charles’s face. ‘Charles – did you call it in?’_

_Charles nodded quickly and Erik let out a sigh of relief. ‘Good,’ he said, allowing his eyes to shut briefly. He took a long, ragged breath and then opened them up again, his expression admirably focused. ‘Charles, we need to get out of here,’ he said quietly, his eyes boring into Charles’s. ‘Creed – he’s too strong. I can’t hold on to him.’_

_Charles nodded, biting his lip in an effort to quell his anxiety. ‘Okay,’ he said, setting his jaw. ‘Okay, I’m going to get us away. Can you stand up?’_

_Erik made a move to sit up and then groaned as a fresh surge of blood soaked into his shirt._

_‘Okay, no standing up,’ Charles said quickly, gently lowering him back down to the ground. He gritted his teeth and pressed his hands over Erik’s wound. ‘Stay with me, Erik, damn you.’_

_Erik groaned again but that was all that he seemed capable of._

_‘Right,’ Charles sat back on his heels and regarded Erik anxiously, his mind buzzing. ‘Let’s see if we can—’_

_‘Need a hand, sweet thing?’_

_Charles’s spine went rigid and it was only the pressure of his hands on Erik’s abdomen that kept him from toppling over._

_‘Creed,’ he said, slowly rising to his feet, careful to not make any sudden moves as he lifted his gaze to meet Creed’s. ‘I see you escaped.’ **Erik, I need you to wake up, I need you to – godammit, I need you.**_

_Creed smirked at him and casually folded his arms across his chest. ‘It wasn’t all that difficult,’ he said airily, his hot, hungry gaze at odds with his casual stance. ‘At least, not once your friend here started bleeding out.’_

_‘That is unfortunate,’ Charles said coldly, his mind racing to find one last straw of hope to clutch on to even as he spoke. ‘But that doesn’t matter now. Backup is on the way and will be here at any moment. You’re not going to escape from here, Creed.’_

_‘I disagree,’ Creed said, his tone conversational. ‘I think that I will escape from here. And what’s more,’ his mouth pulled up widely into a cruel smile, ‘I think that **you** will be coming with me.’ His smile widened at Charles’s startled look. ‘Don’t look so shocked, darling – I want to take my **time** with you._

_‘We can spend all the time together that you want,’ Charles gritted out. ‘Inside an interrogation room. Otherwise, I’m afraid that I’ll have to decline.’_

_Creed let out a loud, harsh laugh at that. ‘You are optimistic,’ he chuckled. ‘I like that. It’s sweet. But consider this, detective: even if you **can** arrest me – which,’ he added, glancing pointedly over to Erik’s crumpled body, ‘is **very** unlikely – what do you intend to do with me then?’_

_Charles drew in a breath. ‘You will go to prison,’ he said calmly. ‘Where you belong.’_

_Creed let out another unsettling laugh. ‘Prison,’ he repeated. ‘For **me**?’ He shook his head, his eyes never leaving Charles’s face. ‘Do you really believe that there is any prison in this world that is capable of holding **me**?’_

_Charles gritted his teeth. ‘We’ll just have to see then, won’t we?’ he said lightly._

_Creed let out a huff at that. ‘That’s not a very good plan, detective,’ he said reproachfully. ‘I think you can do better than that. What happens when they all realise what I am?’ His grin turned sly. ‘When they realise what **you** are? You don’t think that I will keep my mouth shut about that, do you?’_

_Charles swallowed but he carried on, determined. ‘Like I said before,’ he said calmly. ‘We will just have to see, won’t we?’_

_‘Ah,’ Creed gave him a knowing look at that. ‘You think that you can trick them with your mind games, don’t you? Make them think that everything is **normal**.’ He sneered. ‘And how long do you think that will work for, detective? How long do you think your influence can keep everyone from realising what I am and what I can do?’_

_‘You already know what I am going to say to that,’ Charles said levelly, not looking away from Creed’s face as he aimed his gun unwaveringly. ‘We will just have to wait and see.’_

_Creed frowned. ‘You are getting repetitive, detective,’ he chided, cocking his head to the side and gazing at Charles speculatively. ‘You might want to do something about that, if you want your stalling tactics to actually work.’_

_Charles cursed under his breath. Creed might have been brawny, but that did not mean that he lacked in brains._

_‘I am sorry if I do not entertain you,’ he said calmly, subtly angling himself away from Creed. ‘I will try to remedy that.’_

_Creed’s mouth pulled up in a smirk. ‘By all means,’ he purred, gesturing with his hand to continue._

_Charles took a deep breath and forced his shoulders to relax. ‘Tell me about the murders.’_

_Creed’s smirk widened. ‘Interested are you, detective?’_

_‘You know I am.’_

_Creed watched him for a moment, a considering look on his face. Then he smiled. ‘What do you want to know?’ he asked, spreading his arms wide as if to indicate his openness._

_‘Why did you do it?’ Charles asked immediately, looking him straight in the eye. ‘What was the point behind the murders? Behind the mutilations?’_

_Creed grinned. ‘What can I say?’ he shrugged. ‘It’s a hobby.’_

_Charles’s eyes narrowed. ‘Next time try stamp collecting.’_

_Creed smirked. ‘Not my style,’ he drawled. ‘I prefer collecting **skins**.’_

_‘So that’s what all this was?’ Charles asked, a great deal more calmly than he felt, his gun still raised high before him. ‘All these murders – all those mutants who were unable to hide what they were … You killed them for their **mutations**? Because they looked **different**?’_

_Creed didn’t say anything. He simply watched Charles for a moment before giving him an eerie smile. ‘It’s a reason,’ he said, shrugging._

_Charles’s eyes narrowed. ’What other reason is there?’ he asked slowly._

_‘I don’t know,’ Creed cocked his head, smile widening. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’_

_‘Sadism,’ Charles said coldly. ‘Insanity. Jealousy. All of the above. I don’t know – take your pick.’_

_‘They’re all plausible,’ Creed agreed, nodding. ‘Very plausible, in fact.’ He scratched at his chin. ‘I think I’m gonna have to object to that first one, though, Detective: just because I enjoyed myself doesn’t mean that I am a **sadist**.’_

_‘I really think it does,’ Charles said sharply, his eyes narrowed. ‘You do admit it then? That you murdered them simply for pleasure? Not for any other reason?’_

_Creed’s smile turned sly. ‘What other reason would I need?’ he purred._

_‘I don’t know,’ Charles said flatly. ‘You tell me.’_

_‘I can tell you how much I enjoyed it,’ Creed said idly, glancing down at his fingernails which gleamed sharply in the light. ‘How much I enjoyed slicing them open and seeing what was inside … How I enjoyed removing the skins and furs and scales and wings – I was very careful, you know.’_

_‘You covered Munoz with crocodile skin,’ Charles said harshly. ‘Why did you do that?’_

_Creed shrugged. ‘I thought it would be funny,’ he said simply. ‘He thought that scales would be able to protect him from my claws, but he was wrong. I tore the scales off him – nice and slow, it was. And after I was done, I thought I ought to respect his decision ... so I covered him with scales, just like how he wanted.’_

_Charles’s jaw tightened. ‘And Angel Salvadore?’ he challenged. ‘What about her?’_

_Creed cocked his head to the side. ‘You’ll need to be more specific, detective,’ he said with a smirk. ‘I’m not real good with names.’_

_Charles forced his fists not to clench. ‘She had wings,’ he bit out, gritting his teeth together. ‘Wings carved into her flesh and her back was mutilated. Now do you remember?’_

_Creed hummed. ‘Ah,’ he said after a moment. He nodded sagely. ‘The stripper.’_

_Charles’s jaw clenched. ‘She was a young woman with her whole life ahead of her,’ he said coldly, grip tightening around his gun. ‘And **you** took that away from her. You **murdered** her for the sole reason that she was a **mutant**.’_

_Creed watched him in silence for a minute. Then he smiled. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘Yes, I did.’ His grin turned cruel. ‘And I enjoyed **every** minute of it.’_

_A muscle twitched in Charles’s cheek._

_Creed stared back at him._

_Then, like a switch had been flipped, they both abruptly moved into action, Creed flinging himself towards Charles with a roar, while Charles squeezed fiercely on the trigger of his gun, aiming straight for Creed’s head and face, even as he threw himself out of the way. Each of his bullets hit their target and Creed roared in pain and anger as the bullets embedded themselves into his neck and skull. Unfortunately, the shots were mere impediments to Creed rather than fatal setbacks, and he was not held back for long. Soon all the bullets had pushed their way out of his body and he was once again whole and on his feet, grinning menacingly at Charles._

_‘Oh detective,’ he said softly, a dangerous spark alight in his eyes. ‘You are going to pay for that.’_

_Charles simply raised his gun and fired again._

_One bullet caught Creed in the neck and the other on his forehead. And then the gun clicked._

_Charles frowned and pulled on the trigger once more. Again, it clicked._

_Charles’s eyes met Creed’s._

_‘Well how about that,’ Creed’s voice was soft, almost contemplative. ‘Looks like you’ve run out.’_

*****

‘We’re missing something.’ Charles shook his head in frustration, running his hands through his hair.

Erik glanced up from where he had been poring over a photograph of one of the victims for what had to be the hundredth time. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, frowning. 

Charles shook his head, his forehead creased. ‘I mean that we’re _missing_ something. And I’m not talking about the identity of our perp, I’m talking about … _something_. I don’t know what it is, but we’re missing it. And it’s something big. Something _key_.’ He ran a tired hand over his face and sighed. ‘It’s like we’ve got the puzzle pieces but they’re all jumbled up and we’re missing the glue.’

‘Maybe you should take a break,’ Erik suggested, noting the bags under his eyes. Then he cocked his head to the side and gave Charles a quizzical look. ‘Also – you glue your jigsaws together?’ he asked incredulously.

‘And frame them,’ Charles muttered, oblivious, as he frowned at the photo-covered wall around them. He glanced up when Erik snorted, however, raising his own eyebrow in return. ‘Hey, at least I’ve _got_ a hobby,’ he said dryly. He glanced pointedly at the room around them. ‘Some might say that you would find it _particularly_ beneficial to get one of your own.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘Just because I try to catch murderous bastards in my spare time does not mean that my hobby is any less valid than yours,’ he drawled.

Charles snorted at that. ‘You and I have very different definitions of the word “hobby”, my friend,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘I would think that we have very different definitions of most things,’ Erik said lightly. He gave Charles a pointed look. ‘“Impertinence” being one of them.’

‘“Stubborn bastard” being another,’ Charles rejoined.

Erik lifted an eyebrow at that. ‘Oh no,’ he said, a smile curling up at his lips. ‘I think that our definitions _there_ are more similar than not.’

‘Hmm,’ Charles tilted his head, already looking marginally more relaxed than before. ‘So you’re telling me that you _know_ when you’re being a stubborn bastard, but you just don’t care enough to do anything about it?’

Erik considered. ‘Yes,’ he said after a moment, nodding. ‘Sounds like me.’

Charles snorted. ‘Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised to hear you admit it. You always _were_ honest to a fault.’ He gave Erik a wry smile. ‘Glad to see that some things haven’t changed.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘Was that a compliment, Charles?’ he murmured. He gestured with his hand. ‘Please, by all means, do say more.’

Charles folded his arms across his chest. ‘I can’t,’ he said flatly.

‘Why not?’

‘I’ve run out of nice things to say.’

Erik cocked an eyebrow. ‘It was a very limited supply, wasn’t it?’ he said regretfully.

Charles laughed at that. ‘Like I said,’ he murmured, shaking his head. ‘Honest to a fault.’

Erik shrugged. ‘Guess you were right then,’ he said lightly. His eyes met Charles’s. ‘Some things just don’t change.’

*****

_‘Well how about that,’ Creed’s voice was soft. ‘Looks like you’ve run out.’_

_Charles grimaced, trying to suppress the sudden tremor that ran through his hands. He breathed in deeply, pushing his fear out of his mind. ‘Yes,’ he said lightly, somehow managing to appear supremely unconcerned. ‘It does look that way, doesn’t it?’_

_His heart was beating rapidly, however, and he knew, even as he lowered the empty gun, that this was the end. It wasn’t as if he needed very long to assess the situation: he was out of bullets, his powers did not work against Creed, and Erik was down for the count. The best that he could hope for was that his backup would arrive in the next few seconds, but even if it did, it would neither be in time to reach him, nor enough to subdue Creed. By the time they arrived, everything would be over – and that was only if Charles was lucky. It would be **better** if it all ended here; he didn’t want to think about what would happen if Creed managed to drag him off so that he could take his time with him. No doubt every single option presented to him there would be equally horrifying and painful._

_Creed grinned, as if he were the one with the ability to read minds. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said soothingly. ‘It won’t hurt for **too** long.’ His grin widened. ‘They usually all pass out when it becomes too much, you see.’_

_Charles mustered up a thin, frigid smile. ‘Forgive me if I don’t find that particularly reassuring,’ he said coldly._

_Creed shrugged. ‘Well, reassurance was never my strong suit.’ He sighed then. ‘Unfortunately, Detective, I’ve grown rather tired of all this … **conversation**. I’m afraid that all your stalling was for nothing. Now how about we get this over and done with, hmm?’_

_‘If you are sure that there is no more to be said,’ Charles responded evenly._

_‘Oh I’m sure there is more to be said,’ Creed’s grin widened. ‘But maybe we’ll just save it for when we’re alone.’_

_‘We’re alone right now.’_

_‘Fine. When we are **cosier** , then.’ Creed raised his eyebrow. ‘Satisfied?’_

_‘Not by a long shot,’ Charles replied tiredly. ‘But something tells me that you aren’t giving me a lot of options here.’_

_‘No,’ Creed agreed. ‘I’m not.’ And then suddenly he was lunging at Charles, his arms outstretched and his teeth bared, and Charles’s breath was caught in his chest as he raised the butt of his gun, determined to get in one final blow before Creed rendered him incapable –_

_And then suddenly a length of pipe wrapped itself around Creed’s waist and neck and flung him backwards, away from Charles, and Charles looked up in shock to see Erik, propped up on the his left elbow, with one shaking arm raised up in front of him._

_‘Charles,’ Erik’s voice was ragged and infused with pain. ‘I can’t hold him, Charles. I need – I need to **end** it.’_

_Charles didn’t move. He just stared at him, unable to say a word._

_Erik met his gaze for one long second. Then he closed his eyes._

_The bindings around Creed suddenly slackened._

_Charles barely had time to call out a warning before Creed had burst out of his bonds, letting out a roar of fury and, with bloodlust in his eyes, sprang towards Erik, determined to finish him off once and for all._

_Charles’s breath left his throat and immediately he raced towards Erik, running as if he intended to throw himself in front of him. Before he was even half-way there, however, Erik’s hand abruptly flew up and, with a massive effort, his hand grasped around thin air and he **yanked**._

_Creed stumbled in his steps, coming to a sudden halt, and then he abruptly let out a howl of pain as the blood in his veins started to **burn**. _

_Charles looked on with wide, disbelieving eyes as the iron in Creed’s blood was slowly drawn out through his skin, unable to look away even as Creed continued to scream. It was only when Creed let out a particularly distressing howl that he finally turned away, quickly focussing on Erik, who was sagging against the ground with his arm held shakily out in front of him, an expression of iron determination on his face._

_‘Erik,’ Charles breathed out and then he was running towards him, skidding towards his side and clutching at his shoulders. ‘Erik are you – what are—’_

_‘It’s not working,’ Erik gritted out, interrupting him, trying not to waver in his task. ‘No matter how much iron I pull from his body, his powers will always replenish it. And I – I can’t do this for much longer.’ He chanced a look at Charles then, and Charles could see there was a wild desperation in his eyes. ‘Listen to me Charles, you need to leave here. You need to get out before he kills us both.’_

_‘I’m not leaving here without you,’ Charles said flatly._

_‘Then he will kill the both of us,’ Erik snarled, clenching his fists._

_‘Not if we kill him first.’ Erik’s eyes flew wide open at that but Charles looked completely calm and collected. Seeing Erik’s look of surprise, he raised his eyebrow. ‘I am a pragmatist, Erik,’ he said quietly. ‘I may not enjoy violence or killing but I am aware that at times there is no other option. It is him or us, Erik.’ Their eyes met. ‘And make no mistake about it, if ever the call arises then I will **always** choose us.’ He then looked up at Creed. ‘There is no other way,’ he said emotionlessly. ‘Creed needs to die.’_

_‘That’s all very well,’ Erik said tightly. ‘But have you given any thought as to **how**?’_

_Charles was silent for a moment. Then: ‘His head,’ he said quietly. ‘You take off his head.’_

_Erik turned to look at him. ‘A beheading.’ His voice was speculative. Then he sighed. ‘Very well,’ he said, and, turning, he slowly raised his free arm._

_Something came hurling out of the farmhouse, almost too fast for Charles to focus on it. He squinted. ‘Is that a—’ he began._

_‘Yes,’ Erik said grimly. ‘It is.’_

_Then, as a drop of sweat ran down the side of his face, Erik focused his power on the object, raising both hands to the sky._

_His hold over Creed’s bonds slackened for a second, but it was enough. One second was all it took._

_Creed burst out, his face contorted with wrath. Gone was all his glee and his malicious sense of humour. All that was left was hunger and rage._

_His eyes met Charles’s._

_Then, with a roar of fury, he lowered his head and charged._


	7. Chapter 7

It was nearly eight days before Erik decided that it was finally time to broach the subject that they had both been determinedly tiptoeing around since their reunion.

‘So Charles,’ he said, at first attempting to sound casual before giving up and reverting to blunt questioning. ‘Have you spoken to Raven lately?’

Charles glanced up in surprise from where he had been poring over his old notes from the Salvadore case, blinking bemusedly at Erik. ‘Oh,’ he said after a moment, his face carefully blank. ‘Yes. Yes, I have.’ He dropped his eyes and went back to his notes.

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh really?’ he said, determined not to let things go at that. ‘And when was that exactly?’

Charles did not look up, though his lips went visibly thin. ‘Recently,’ he said in a clipped tone, before pointedly ignoring Erik and focusing in on his work.

Erik watched him for a while, his eyes not moving away from Charles’s face. ‘Liar,’ he said quietly.

Charles stilled. He lowered his hand, putting down his pen with deliberate slowness and then looked up, his expression neutral. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he asked coolly.

‘I said that you were a liar,’ Erik said calmly, determined to push the subject as far as he could. ‘I don’t know why you look so surprised by this, Charles. You’re the best liar I know. So good, in fact, that you’ve taken to believing your own lies.’

‘Nonsense,’ Charles said briskly, shaking his head and wrinkling his nose even as his eyes remained cold. ‘I’m a terrible liar. Ask anyone.’

Erik shook his head. ‘At the small things maybe,’ he said quietly. ‘About where you were last night, or what you’re doing in some place where you’re not meant to be. Spur of the moment lies. Those I agree you are poor at. But the big lies – the personal ones … well, you were always an expert at those.’ There was a tinge of bitterness to Erik’s words. 

‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ Charles said stiffly, his eyes narrowed.

Erik shrugged. ‘Then you are proving my point.’ 

‘I don’t even know what your point _is_.’

‘You never do.’ Erik sighed and shook his head. ‘You haven’t spoken to Raven at all, have you?’ 

Charles scowled. ‘Why?’ he demanded, sounding irritable. ‘Have you?’

‘Not for years,’ Erik answered calmly. ‘But then she’s not my sister.’

‘No, she’s just someone you fucked,’ Charles sneered before suddenly going still. He blinked a few times, as if astonished by his own words, and then abruptly turned away. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, sounding subdued. ‘That was – that was uncalled for.’

‘Yes,’ Erik said grimly, tightness visible behind his eyes. ‘It was.’

Charles sighed. He slumped down in his seat and scrubbed a hand over his face. ‘You’re right, you know,’ he said, sounding weary. ‘I haven’t talked to her. Not for a long time. Not since—’ he let out a humourless laugh. ‘Not since I left.’

‘Ten years,’ Erik said quietly.

Charles quirked an eyebrow. ‘That surprises you?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t speak to you for ten years either.’

‘Yes, but again – I am not your sister.’

‘You most certainly aren’t,’ Charles said with a laugh, but there was an odd note to his voice.

‘Charles,’ Erik said sharply. He waited until Charles had glanced up at him. ‘You really haven’t contacted Raven?’ he asked in a quieter tone. 

Charles shook his head. 

Erik let out a muttered curse and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. ‘You’re telling me that you really don’t know what she’s doing right now – that you don’t know where she is?’

‘Raven will always be welcome in my presence,’ Charles said calmly, giving Erik a fixed smile. ‘But I learned my lesson long ago. I will not chase after her, Erik, or corner her. Not ever again. If we are to be reunited then it is she who has to come to me.’ A flicker of pain crossed his face. ‘It’s the way she wanted it.’

‘That’s not what she wanted, Charles,’ Erik said, shaking his head. ‘You know it isn’t.’

‘I don’t, actually,’ Charles said lightly. ‘But in any case, it changes nothing. Not for me.’

Erik opened his mouth to argue but, after looking at Charles’s face, he shut it again. He sighed. ‘Pass me the Creed autopsy report,’ he said instead, holding out a hand.

Charles met his eyes. Then he reached across the table and handed over the report.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Charles said. He watched for a moment as Erik flipped through the report. Then he sighed and, looking down, went back to reading his notes.

*****

_Erik and Charles stared blankly at the headless carcass on the floor. Neither of them was able to speak._

_They had done it. Victor Creed, the Sabretooth killer, was finally dead._

_They did not know how long they lay there for, slumped against each other and unable to look away from the body in front of them. It was only when they heard the sound of sirens in the distance that they roused themselves from their stupor and allowed the last traces of adrenaline in their veins to fade away completely._

_‘Our backup is almost here,’ Charles said in a monotone, finally turning his head away from Creed’s remains and straightening up, thoughts clearly already turned on to more practical matters._

_‘Late as always,’ Erik muttered, trying to sit up and grimacing as a bolt of pain flared in his side, causing him to sway slightly._

_‘Hmm,’ Charles continued to look out into the distance. ‘Perhaps it is better that way.’_

_‘Perhaps,’ Erik said, non-committal. A fresh wave of dizziness passed over him, and he gritted his teeth and waited it out before turning to Charles. ‘Charles,’ he said, breathing heavily and trying to blink away the black spots floating in front of his eyes._

_Charles turned to him._

_‘We don’t have much time,’ Erik slurred, clutching at his now crimson chest, the blood having soaked into his shirt. ‘We need to make up a story … we need to explain this … make sure that it all makes sense …’_

_Charles gave him a quick, assessing look and then allowed his mouth to twitch upwards into a grim smile. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said coolly, slowly rising to his feet as a fleet of police cars drew up around them, their lights flashing and their sirens blaring in a shrill cacophony. ‘You just leave that to me.’_

*****

_‘So what you are saying,’ Chief McCone said slowly, shortly after Erik had been rushed off to the hospital and Charles had been momentarily detained to help sort out the crime scene. ‘Is that Creed … slipped.’_

_‘Yes,’ Charles nodded, unabashedly solemn._

_‘And he just … fell.’_

_‘That’s right.’_

_‘And he happened to fall straight into …’_

_‘A bear trap, yes.’_

_McCone took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘A bear trap. Right. Of course.’_

_‘It was unfortunate,’ Charles said dutifully. ‘But really, Creed only had himself to blame. It’s only common sense to not leave rigged bear traps in places where you might get caught in them.’_

_McCone’s eyes were unblinking. ‘Common sense,’ he repeated, his eyes never leaving Charles’s. ‘I see.’_

_Charles let out a cough. ‘Yes,’ he said, running a hand through his hair and grimacing. ‘He’d left them all around the place so that they could catch out any intruders.’ He turned wide blue eyes on McCone. ‘I’m just glad that it wasn’t my neck or Erik’s that ended up in that trap. It could easily have been any of us, during the struggle.’_

_‘Luckily it wasn’t,’ McCone observed._

_‘Yes,’ Charles nodded sagely. ‘Very lucky.’_

_Charles and McCone stared at each other. There was a pause._

_‘Well, that all sounds perfectly plausible to me,’ McCone said abruptly, turning around and moving away. ‘Make sure you put that all down in the report.’_

_‘I will, sir,’ Charles said pleasantly._

_‘Oh, and Xavier?’_

_Charles looked up to see that McCone had paused in his steps and was looking back at him._

_‘Yes, sir?’_

_McCone eyed him for a moment. ‘Good work, Detective,’ he said at last, and then turned back around and continued walking._

*****

‘I wanted to go with you that day,’ Charles said abruptly.

Erik glanced up from where he had been looking at a crime scene photograph of Creed’s dead body, the head severed from the neck by clean yet jagged cuts. He frowned and turned to Charles. ‘That day?’ he asked.

Charles nodded over to the photo. ‘The day we got Creed,’ he explained. ‘I wanted to go with you to the hospital. I probably ought to have – I needed a few stitches myself. But I couldn’t.’

‘I know,’ Erik said gently.

‘I had to stay behind and convince everyone that everything was perfectly clear and straightforward,’ Charles sighed, looking rueful. ‘Which, I can tell you, was a lot more difficult than it sounds, considering that I was hardly firing on all cylinders at the time.’ He sent Erik a wry look. ‘It didn’t help that I had to make it sound like Creed having his neck snapped off by slipping over and falling into his own bear trap was actually a plausible event.’

‘I don’t think you can blame me entirely for that,’ Erik protested, folding his arms across his chest. ‘ _You_ were the one who came up with the story, after all.’

‘Well forgive me, but there are actually _very_ few scenarios in which one can have one’s head plausibly snapped off by a bear trap.’

‘There are very few scenarios in which one can have one’s head snapped off _full stop_.’

‘Well I am sure that there must have been far better options out there than a rusty old bear trap,’ Charles grumbled.

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘Did you have any better ideas on how to stop Creed?’

Charles grimaced. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I still don’t, to tell the truth. And believe me, I’ve thought long and hard on the subject since that day.’

Erik nodded, his expression tight. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Me too.’

‘I always wonder, though,’ Charles said quietly. ‘What would have happened if we had taken him in instead. Would we be where we now are? Would all this have been over – could we have prevented any more people from dying?’ He shook his head. ‘I know those answers won’t help anyone now, but I still can’t help but wonder about it …’

‘You can stop wondering then,’ Erik said shortly. ‘Because I know the answer. The answer is that we would _not_ be where we are now because the both of us would be _dead_.’ He met Charles’s eyes, his expression fierce. ‘You know as well as I do that killing him was the only option, Charles. It was him or us, and there was no way that I was going to let it be _him_ who walked away from that fight instead of the two of us.’ His eyes softened as he continued to look at Charles. ‘We did the right thing,’ he said gently. ‘I know we did. And you should know it too.’

Charles watched him for a long moment, his face expressionless. Then he sighed. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I know. We did what needed to be done.’

Erik nodded firmly. ‘We did.’

Charles gave him a wry smile. ‘And just for the record,’ he added in a low voice. ‘I’m also very glad that it was the two of us who walked out of that alive, and not him.’

Erik raised his eyebrow. ‘Was that a thank you, Charles?’ he drawled, his mouth pulling up into a smirk.

‘No,’ Charles smiled. ‘But it was an acknowledgement.’ He cocked his head to the side. ‘Would you like me to thank you, Erik?’

Erik smiled before the expression faded into seriousness. ‘No,’ he said, turning and looking away. ‘You already said thank you once before and—’ he paused, his brow furrowed. When he continued, his tone was slightly stiff. ‘And you will never have to thank me for putting your life before that of others, Charles.’

Charles eyed him with mild surprise, his brow slightly furrowed. ‘I am not sure whether that is an altogether good thing, my friend,’ he said slowly, choosing his words with care.

Erik shrugged. ‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, getting up from his seat with a sigh and walking towards the door. He paused at the threshold. ‘But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t the truth,’ he said, and then walked out of the door.

Charles watched him go, his face completely expressionless. ‘Oh, you fool,’ he said softly when Erik disappeared from sight. ‘You poor, poor fool.’ And, sighing, he turned away.

*****

_‘Charles!’ Raven rushed to him the moment that he stepped through the door. ‘Are you alright?’ She seized hold of his arm, and began to frantically pat him down, trying to see whether he had any hidden injuries under his clothes._

_‘I’m fine, darling,’ Charles said, gently but firmly pushing her off and making his way forward into the house. ‘I was lucky.’_

_Raven immediately punched him in the arm, causing him to wince. ‘You’re damn right you were,’ she snapped, following him as he walked in. ‘I mean what the hell, Charles – you and Erik were out there **alone**. You could have died!’_

_‘But we didn’t.’_

_‘Tell that to Erik,’ Raven pushed in front of him so that he was forced to look at her. ‘He’s the one in the hospital!’_

_Charles grimaced. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly, his mask of calm momentarily cracking. ‘I know.’_

_There was a pause._

_‘How is he?’ Raven asked after a moment, sounding hesitant. ‘Is he—’_

_‘He’ll be fine,’ Charles said quickly. ‘He just needs time.’_

_‘Good,’ Raven sounded relieved. ‘Good. I’m glad.’ Then she shook her head. ‘But Jesus **Christ** , Charles, what were you guys even thinking? I mean, Erik I can understand, he’s screwed up, but **you**? You have way more sense than that! Going after that **psychopath** on your own—’_

_‘He was a mutant, Raven,’ Charles said tightly, before she could go any further. ‘Creed was a mutant and he was preying on other mutants like himself, those with physical mutations—’ his eyes bored into hers, ‘—physical mutations like **yours**.’_

_Raven stared at him. And then she shook her head. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘Oh you are **not** making this about me!’_

_‘Raven—’_

_‘This is such **bullshit** , Charles! How can you even—’_

_‘How can I not?’_

_‘ **Stay out of my head!** ’ Raven snapped, glaring at him. ‘Let me **say** this, Charles!_

_Charles took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I was not **in** your head,’ he said with forced patience. ‘And all I was trying to say was that Creed would have been a threat to you – just as he was a threat to **all** mutants with visible mutations.’_

_‘I can take care of myself,’ Raven hissed. ‘And this is bullshit, and you know it. This has nothing to do with me, Charles. **You’re** the one that was almost killed today. You and Erik. Not me!’_

_‘Yes, darling, I know, but—’_

_‘No,’ Raven shook her head. ‘I don’t want to hear it any more, Charles. This wasn’t about me, so don’t you dare try to make it something that it’s not.’ She whirled around and headed towards the door._

_‘Where are you going?’ Charles asked with a frown, watching as she pulled her jacket off the coat-peg. ‘Raven, what are you—’_

_‘I’m going out,’ Raven said shortly. ‘I’m going to the hospital to visit Erik. Or do you want to stop me from doing that as well?’_

_‘Raven —’_

_‘Bye Charles,’ she said coldly and then slammed the door shut behind her, leaving him alone in the house._

_Charles sighed. ‘Let me know how Erik is,’ he said aloud to the empty hallway._

_He needed a drink._

*****

‘I didn’t think you would agree to see me.’ Raven leaned back in her seat and regarded the man opposite her with something like wariness. ‘I’m glad you did, naturally, but I didn’t expect you to. Not after the way we left things.’

‘I know.’

‘I … I wanted to come see you, you know … I thought about it so many times—’

‘I know that too.’

Raven opened her mouth and then shut it, before shaking her head. ‘Christ,’ she said exasperatedly. ‘You’re just as much of a closed-mouthed bastard now as you were then.’

Erik’s teeth glinted as his mouth pulled up into a harsh grin. ‘We never did the bedroom talk quite right, did we?’ he murmured, his eyes still fixed on hers.

Raven, much to her credit, didn’t so much as twitch. ‘Considering it was just the one time,’ she said coolly, ‘And the circumstances that went with it—’

‘You mean you using me.’

‘I mean the _both_ of us using _each other_ ,’ Raven corrected him, and it was a mark of how much they had both grown over the years that they simply met each other’s eyes and nodded. ‘Besides,’ she added dryly, ‘I think we both know that I was hardly the one you wanted in your bed at the time.’ She stared at him unabashedly. ‘I don’t suppose that has happened yet, has it?’

Erik’s expression didn’t change and he didn’t reply.

Raven sighed. ‘I see,’ she said quietly, grimacing. ‘I suppose that’s my fault as much as anyone else’s.’

Erik didn’t say anything but a twitch of his face muscles seemed to indicate that he certainly didn’t disagree.

‘What do you want, Raven?’ he asked after a beat, his voice even and level. ‘Why did you contact me? Why did you come back?’

‘All those questions have the same answer,’ Raven replied calmly. She met his eyes. ‘Charles.’

‘Charles,’ Erik repeated, tasting the name in his mouth before shaking his head. ‘Naturally. I’ve been here all along and you never returned, so I managed to figure that one out all by myself.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Be more _specific_ , Raven.’

Raven sighed. ‘I came back because Charles did,’ she said bluntly. ‘Because it’s something that I never expected him to do. Ever. I – I wanted to know what brought him back.’

Erik tilted his head back and regarded her. ‘That’s not quite it either,’ he said after a moment, his voice thoughtful. ‘Maybe it is, partially, but that’s not the entire story. You’re here because you heard something. You _know_ something.’

Raven narrowed her eyes at him. ‘And here I was thinking that _Charles_ is the one who’s able to read minds out of the two of you,’ she grumbled under her breath. ‘You’re right,’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m not just here because Charles returned. I’m here because his name came up somewhere that I didn’t expect to hear it and I wanted to make sure that everything was okay with him.’

‘Hmm,’ Erik continued to watch her thoughtfully. ‘So you got word that he is currently suspect number one in the mutant murders and you decided to come down and see it for yourself, is that it?’

Raven’s lips tightened. ‘And so what if I did?’ she challenged.

Erik shrugged. ‘So nothing,’ he said simply. ‘It’s good. You still care enough to come back for him.’

‘Of course I care,’ Raven snapped, gripping the arms of her chair tightly. ‘He’s my _brother_. Of course I was going to come back.’

‘Where exactly did you come _from_ , anyway?’ Erik asked idly.

Raven’s jaw tightened. ‘None of your business,’ she said stiffly, sitting up straighter in her chair.

Erik snorted. ‘That deep, huh? How’s covert ops these days, anyway? Hope they’re treating you better than they treated me.’

‘I’m _private sector_ , actually,’ Raven bit back, sounding slightly huffy. ‘Everything works much more efficiently there, I promise you. It’s how I was able to keep an eye on things here … and how I found out about Charles.’

‘Ah,’ Erik nodded. He tilted his head and watched her for a moment. ‘Funny thing, though,’ he said in a low, thoughtful voice. ‘How you keep saying you’re here because you’re concerned about _Charles_ , but then you decide to call _me_ instead of him for a confidential face-to-face.’

A muscle in Raven’s jaw twitched but she didn’t say anything.

‘Is it because of all the top-secret information that you carry in your head from your place in the _private sector_?’ Erik mused silkily, watching Raven closely. ‘You always did have … _issues_ with Charles’s ability, after all …’

‘Stop it,’ Raven snapped, looking thoroughly irked.

‘But no, I don’t think that’s _all_ it is,’ Erik continued thoughtfully, ignoring her. ‘No, I think the reason that I’m here instead of Charles is because you’re _scared_. You have know idea how he will react to seeing you again and that scares you.’

‘Shut up,’ Raven said tightly, her hands grasping the arms of her chair in a punishing grip. ‘Stop it, Erik, this isn’t funny.’

‘You never did expect him to walk out on you all those years ago, did you?’ Erik went on casually, seeming to take an almost malicious delight in her discomfort. ‘You thought you knew him so well, you thought that there was no way that he would _ever_ be angry enough at you to simply _leave_ —’

‘That’s _enough_ ,’ Raven’s voice was low and flat and filled with anger. ‘I get it, Erik, alright? You’re angry with me because you blame me for Charles leaving but don’t forget – don’t you _ever_ forget – that you played a part in that too. And not just in the bedroom.’

Erik lowered his head. ‘I remember,’ he said quietly. ‘I know. We are both to blame for Charles leaving.’

Raven turned her head away. ‘I’m not sure Charles thinks that,’ she said in a low voice, not meeting his eyes. ‘He may have forgiven you, Erik – but I don’t think that he will ever forgive me. Not for what I did to him.’

‘What we _both_ did,’ Erik insisted, leaning forward grimly. ‘You said it yourself – we are both to blame for this. And my share of the blame is greater than yours – _I_ was the one who did not support Charles when he needed it. _I_ was the one that drove him to drink. Why should he hold you any more accountable than he does me?’

Raven slowly lifted her head at that and met his eyes. ‘If you do not know that …’ she said quietly before shaking her head and looking away, her eyes red. ‘You were always oblivious to the abstract, Erik,’ she said softly. ‘Always so uninterested in anything that was not cold and hard and _tangible_.’

‘Well, I _am_ a _detective_ , Raven.’

‘Yes,’ Raven agreed. ‘You are. But then so was Charles. And _Charles_ – well, he deals more with abstracts than anyone else I have ever known.’

‘I’m not sure what you’re trying to get at here,’ Erik said, impatient. ‘What does this have to do with Charles being angry at you?’

Raven sighed. ‘He’s angry at me because I _knew_ and you didn’t. He’s angry at me because – because he _can_ be.’

‘And he can’t with me?’ Erik demanded.

Raven watched him. ‘I don’t know,’ she said quietly. ‘Can he?’

Erik met her eyes. 

‘Bullshit,’ he said.

Raven started and turned to him in surprise. ‘What?’ she stammered.

‘I said bullshit,’ Erik said calmly, regarding Raven coolly. ‘Charles loved you more than anything in the world, Raven. Yes, that might have made it hurt more, but if he can look past what I did then he can look past it with you, too. That’s not the reason you’re not seeing him. It’s been ten years … what’s keeping you away from him is more than just fear.’

Raven’s lips thinned.

Erik studied her for a moment before raising his eyebrows. ‘You’re angry at him,’ he realised, frowning. ‘You won’t go to him because you’re not just scared about how he’ll react – you’re scared about how _you_ will react, too. Why – what are you angry about?’ 

Raven didn’t say anything.

‘What aren’t you saying, Raven?’ Erik leaned closer, his eyes intent. ‘Why won’t you see him?’ He suddenly remembered the words spoken minutes before, and Raven’s tense expression as she listened to him. ‘Wait,’ he said, frowning. ‘You’re angry at him – for _leaving_? Wasn’t that what you wanted? Why are you so—’

‘Because he was supposed to take me with him!’ Raven burst out, her blue face suddenly darkened in fury. ‘He wasn’t supposed to go on his own – he supposed to get the _both_ of us out of here!’

Erik shook his head, still not quite understanding. ‘But you knew he would leave,’ he persisted. ‘You were counting on it. You said that—’

‘He wasn’t supposed to leave _me_!’ Raven cried, her eyes filling with tears. ‘ _I_ was supposed to leave, Erik. Not him. _I_ was supposed to be the one to leave _him_! Not the other way around!’ 

Erik stared at her in surprise as tears ran down her cheeks.

‘I didn’t think he would leave just like that,’ Raven choked out. ‘It wasn’t supposed to drive him away. I just – I wanted him to see me as an _adult_ , Erik. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t a stupid little girl who couldn’t take care of herself.’ She let out a hiccup and turned to him with a pained, watery smile. ‘I guess it worked a bit too well, huh?’

Erik didn’t say anything.

‘It’s strange,’ Raven continued, wiping at her face. ‘It’s been ten years. So much time has passed by. And yet—’ she swallowed. ‘And yet it still – it still _hurts_ , you know? I’m still so _angry_ about it. Even though I know that it’s my fault that he left.’

‘ _Our_ fault,’ Erik corrected her gently, before adding, ‘ _Everyone’s_ fault, really. Charles does get _some_ of the blame, after all.’ 

Raven let out a slight laugh at that and shook her head. ‘I guess,’ she said, wiping at her nose and slowly regaining her composure.

They didn’t speak for a moment.

‘How is he?’ she asked after a beat. ‘Has he – does he ask about me?’

Erik considered the question. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly, making sure to make eye contact. ‘He’s asked about you.’

Raven seemed to accept this. ‘And is he – is he still angry?’ she asked, rubbing at her cheek.

Erik shrugged. ‘Who knows?’ he asked. ‘It’s Charles. No one knows what goes on in his head.’

‘Not even you?’ Raven asked quietly.

Erik met her eyes. ‘No,’ he said heavily. ‘Not even me.’

*****

He left her hotel room a short while after that. He said nothing to Charles.

*****

__  
**Eleven and a half years ago,**  


_Erik made his way through the bar, smiling tightly each time that he was called to or greeted. The problem with frequenting a cop bar was that everyone already knew everyone, and quite frankly Erik had to spend enough time with these people when he was at work. Charles had wanted to come here, though, so Erik had given in and agreed._

_It took him only a moment to spot Charles at the bar once he got past the crowd near the door. He immediately started forward, making his way past the tables full of colleagues and acquaintances and heading towards the empty stool set at Charles’s side._

_‘I see you started without me,’ he said once he got there, his eyes skimming over the almost empty beer glass in front of Charles._

_‘Feel free to catch up,’ Charles said with a smile, gesturing to the seat next to him and then calling over the bartender. ‘Two more please,’ he said with a smile, and then waited as he and Erik were served. ‘Next round’s on you,’ he added as Erik settled in beside him._

_‘Fair enough,’ Erik said with a shrug, taking a sip of the beer and grimacing. Another reason way he didn’t like coming to the cop bar was that the beer they sold did not quite meet his standards._

_‘Snob,’ Charles laughed, noticing Erik’s expression._

_‘Just because you don’t have any standards doesn’t mean that I don’t,’ Erik said dryly. ‘We all know that you’ll drink practically anything, Charles.’_

_‘I’m just easy to please,’ Charles said with a shrug, smiling. His expression sobered after a minute. ‘Most of the time, anyway,’ he murmured, frowning a little. He then glanced back up at Erik. ‘It’s good to see you out and about,’ he said warmly, his eyes lingering on Erik’s bandaged wrist. ‘You must be going stir-crazy, now that you’re stuck on leave.’_

_Erik grimaced. ‘It’s tiresome,’ he admitted, glaring down at himself. ‘But I suppose it was necessary. I’m seeing McCone tomorrow though,’ he added as if in afterthought. ‘I’m going to ask him to see if I can come back to work early.’_

_‘How early?’_

_‘Next week,’ Erik said at once, causing Charles to frown._

_‘Next week,’ he repeated slowly. ‘Isn’t that … rather soon?’_

_Erik let out a grunt. ‘Not soon enough,’ he muttered, raising his beer to his lips. Charles was still looking at him when he set it down again._

_‘Creed hurt you pretty badly, Erik,’ he said, his voice quiet. ‘Like it or not, you need time to recover.’_

_‘What I **need** ,’ Erik corrected him, ‘Is something to do. I can’t just sit on my hands and do nothing for another two months, Charles.’_

_‘You haven’t been doing **nothing** ,’ Charles said dryly. ‘You’ve been forcing me to keep you updated on my cases while you’re bedridden. You’ve helped me solve at least three murders as it is.’_

_‘Nothing that you couldn’t have done yourself,’ Erik said gruffly._

_‘Still,’ Charles smiled and raised his glass in a toast. ‘I’d say it’s pretty damn impressive.’_

_‘And I’d say the alcohol’s already gone to your head,’ Erik muttered, but his face relaxed and he looked pleased. He took a sip of his drink. ‘Just imagine what I’ll be able to accomplish when I’m back at full strength.’_

_‘Which won’t be for a long while yet if you keep overexerting yourself,’ Charles warned but he sounded very half-hearted._

_‘There’s no need to pretend, Charles,’ Erik grinned. ‘I know you’ve been missing me. You may as well go ahead and say it.’_

_Charles huffed out a laugh. ‘You’re right,’ he said wryly. ‘I have missed you. Surprisingly, it’s not all that much fun working on my own in a place where everyone thinks that I’m strange and creepy.’_

_Erik frowned. ‘They don’t all think that,’ he protested, turning to look at Charles._

_Charles merely raised an eyebrow. ‘Telepath, remember?’ he said with a humourless smile. ‘I know very well what they think of me, Erik.’ He shrugged. ‘To be fair, though, I really haven’t given them much reason to think otherwise.’_

_‘What about the Sabretooth murders?’ Erik demanded, feeling strangely incensed._

_Charles sighed. ‘That only bought me so much goodwill, Erik,’ he said calmly. ‘It doesn’t change the fact that they don’t really know me, or that I’ve made no effort to get to know them. They think I’m up my own arse, you see.’ He sent Erik a fake glare. ‘I blame you for that, you know. What was the point in me getting to know anyone else after I’d found you?’_

_Erik blinked, staring at Charles in surprise._

_Charles continued. ‘Besides,’ he said, looking down at his glass and frowning, his expression suddenly becoming serious. ‘I didn’t exactly take advantage of any goodwill from the Sabretooth case. I – It didn’t feel right somehow.’_

_Erik frowned. ‘How do you mean?’ he asked, forcefully shaking off the odd feeling in his chest. ‘Because the case involved mutants?’_

_Charles bit his lip and then slowly shook his head. ‘You’re going to think I’m paranoid,’ he said, before grimly reaching forward and taking a deep swig from his glass._

_‘Why?’ Erik asked immediately. ‘You think there’s something wrong?’_

_Charles hesitated and then shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not exactly. It’s just—’ he paused, licking his lips. ‘I don’t know. I just feel like we’ve overlooked something. I’ve been wracking my brains trying to figure out what it is that I’m feeling and I know that it’s ludicrous, but the only thing that I can come up with is that it feels incomplete. This case, Erik … it just doesn’t feel – it doesn’t feel like it’s **over**.’_

_‘That’s because it isn’t,’ Erik said at once, his voice turning grim. ‘The crimes against our kind have only just started, Charles. Things are changing, we are becoming more visible – that’s what you are feeling. Make no mistake,’ he shook his head. ‘This won’t be the last we see of hate crimes against mutants.’_

_Charles frowned. ‘You really think so?’ he asked, perturbed. ‘Even when people don’t know that we exist?’_

_Erik’s expression was grim. ‘People know we exist, Charles,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s just that it’s the **wrong** kind of people.’_

_Charles sighed but after a moment he nodded, forced to agree. ‘And the very fact that the majority of the world doesn’t know that we exist leaves us vulnerable to atrocities that such people wouldn’t otherwise be able to get away with,’ he said tiredly, rubbing at his eyes. His other hand was still clenched tightly around his beer glass._

_Erik gave a humourless smile. ‘Don’t kid yourself, Charles,’ he said grimly. ‘We’d be exploited even if our kind were out in the open. I have no doubt of that. It’s simply a question of scale. As long as we stay secret, we get to be exploited by lone psychopaths like Creed. If we go public – well. Then we’ll exploited by entire **governments**.’_

_‘You truly believe that?’ Charles asked, his brow creased._

_‘You **don’t**?’ Erik retorted._

_Charles chewed on his lip, taking a moment to order his thoughts. ‘What I believe,’ he said at last, speaking slowly, ‘Is that, in the end, it doesn’t matter.’ He raised a hand at Erik’s look of outrage. ‘No, really. If, as you say, we’re going to be exploited – **murdered** – either way, then what kind of future is that? Are those really our only two options? Be exploited by one or be exploited by the many? Because frankly, if it is, then we may as well not bother. We may as well just pack it all in right now.’_

_Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re strangely defeatist for someone who just helped to catch one of those exploitative individuals,’ he remarked, feeling irritated._

_Charles shrugged. ‘You say defeatist,’ he said, unconcerned. ‘I say realistic.’_

_‘But that’s not what you actually believe, though, is it?’ Erik asked impatiently, curious despite himself. ‘That there is no way to end this? That we’re doomed to be exploited one way or another and that there’s no way out?’_

_‘Oh, I believe it,’ Charles said easily. ‘I know very well that there will always be a section of us that are going to be a lost cause.’ He shrugged. ‘The only thing to do when faced with those odds is try to make that number as small as possible. And in the meantime,’ he gestured with his hand. ‘We simply do what is best for the greater good.’_

_‘Ah,’ Erik’s smile twisted. ‘This again.’_

_‘It makes the most sense,’ Charles said unrepentantly, taking another drink from his glass. ‘It’s the logical thing to do. We can’t save everyone, after all. All we can do is try our best to keep the existence of mutants secret and try to protect as many as we can in the meantime.’_

_‘That won’t last forever,’ Erik said shaking his head. ‘Sooner or later the world will learn of our existence and then everything will change. The humans won’t like being faced with the prospect of a more evolved species threatening their existence and you can bet that they won’t take it sitting down. What does your philosophy say we do about that?’_

_‘There’s really only one thing that we can do,’ Charles said with a shrug. ‘We’ll just have to keep doing what we’re doing and keep our fingers crossed that the world doesn’t find out about us for a long, long time.’_

_‘You think that it’s best that the existence of mutants is kept hidden, then?’_

_‘Naturally,’ Charles nodded. He sighed at Erik’s unconvinced expression. ‘It’s the sensible option. Even your scenario showed us that – it’s better to be exploited by the few than by the many.’_

_‘It’s better not to be exploited at **all**.’_

_‘In a perfect world, yes,’ Charles agreed. ‘But, sadly, this isn’t a perfect world. It’s not even close. No, we need to keep mutants hidden for as long as we can and, in the meantime, build up strategies to ensure their protection. Most of those will fail of course,’ he said equably. ‘But some might work out.’_

_‘Oh?’ Erik turned to Charles in challenge. ‘Go on then. Tell me. What strategy is most likely to work then, **Professor**?’_

_Charles ignored the nickname. ‘Frankly?’ he shrugged. ‘Our best chance is to increase the rate of human reproduction exponentially and hope that as the birth rate goes up so does the number of mutant births. That way, by the time that mutants come out in public there will hopefully already be one in each and every household in the world and no one will really be all that bothered.’_

_‘So your plan to combat the threat against our people is to encourage everyone to have more sex?’ Erik asked flatly, although a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth._

_‘Yes,’ Charles said decisively, nodding. ‘That’s the plan. And of course, we few that carry the mutant gene would have to do our bit. Spread the love, as it were.’_

_‘Make love, not war …’ Erik smiled before the expression slowly slid away from his face. ‘It’s a nice thought, Charles, but it’s hardly practical.’_

_‘Oh, I leave the practicality to you,’ Charles nodded at him. ‘So you might as well tell me what **your** master plan would be. I’m sure that it will be entirely sensible and practicable.’_

_‘It is,’ Erik said simply. ‘We fight.’_

_‘Just as I expected,’ Charles nodded gravely. ‘Sensible, practical and violent. That actually sums you up rather nicely, I think.’_

_‘You shouldn’t laugh, Charles,’ Erik said, shaking his head. ‘I was being serious.’_

_‘Of course you were,’ Charles agreed. ‘And I wasn’t laughing at you, my friend. I merely found it laughable that every single outcome of this situation that we have so far assessed sees us oh-so-thoroughly fucked. Extinction, exploitation, and war. Is that how it is going to be? Are those really our only options?’_

_Erik reached out and grasped Charles’s arm tightly. ‘Of course those aren’t the only options, Charles,’ he said fiercely, gazing into Charles’s eyes. ‘We won’t let that happen. We won’t let any more of our brothers and sisters fall at the hands of the humans. To be **murdered** by those who cannot accept us. Not while we’re here to stop it. To **fight** it. We already took down Creed, and we’ll do it again if any more of our kind are harmed.’_

_Charles was looking at Erik with an indecipherable expression on his face. ‘Yes,’ he agreed gently, reaching forward to lay a hand on top of the one that Erik had put on his. ‘We did stop Creed, and I can’t tell you how glad I am that we did. But Erik – there’s something you’re forgetting.’ At Erik’s frown, Charles met his eyes. ‘Creed wasn’t a human,’ he said quietly. ‘He was a mutant.’_

_Erik’s lips tightened. ‘Well – yes, I know that, Charles, but that doesn’t mean that—’_

_‘He was a **mutant** ,’ Charles said flatly, interrupting him. ‘He was a mutant and he was killing his own kind just for the sheer pleasure of it.’ Charles took a deep breath. ‘Say what you like, my friend, but that really only means one thing.’_

_‘And what’s that?’ Erik asked, curious._

_Charles sighed and brought his beer glass up to his lips. ‘It means that for all your talk of being **homo superior** evolution did jack shit to make us better people,’ he said, and then downed the beer in one swallow._


	8. Chapter 8

The epiphany, when it came, arrived abruptly.

It was mid-afternoon, the sun was high in the sky, and the office was hot and stuffy. Neither Charles nor Erik felt particularly enthusiastic about staying indoors all day, and neither of them really expected to make any more progress with the case than they had the day before, but they both nevertheless stubbornly refused to step away from their desks.

It was when the heat was getting very close to being unbearable that Charles, whose gaze had drifted away from his files at some point, suddenly jerked upright, blinking his eyes rapidly with new alertness.

‘Erik,’ he said in an odd voice, holding himself very still. ‘I’ve just had a thought.’

Erik turned to face him, his eyebrow raised with distinctly limited enthusiasm. Upon seeing the look on Charles’s face, however, his expression quickly became serious. ‘What?’ he asked, leaning forward intently. ‘What is it?’

Charles chewed his lip. ‘It’s just … maybe we’re looking at this all wrong,’ he said carefully. ‘We’ve been thinking that the murderer only targets mutants with visible mutations, yes?’

‘Yes,’ Erik nodded, frowning.

‘Okay, but … what if we’ve been looking at it in completely the wrong way? What if the only reason we’ve been thinking that is because we’re only _finding_ mutants with visible mutations? What if we’ve been ignoring the ones _without_ any outward differences – mutants like _us_?’

Erik paused for a moment, processing this, and then he slowly shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, but he looked distinctly troubled. ‘We can’t have. We pulled every single case file with an unusual MO. All we found were victims – _mutants_ – with visible differences.’

‘Yes,’ Charles said, sitting up straighter in his seat and leaning forward intently, ‘but Erik, _think_ about it. Why were the victims mutilated in the ways that they were?’

‘To hide their mutations,’ Erik said slowly.

‘Yes!’ Charles nodded. ‘Exactly. We looked for murders matching that MO, and we found them – and all of the victims were mutants with obvious mutations. And so we assumed that that’s what was happening – that a murderer was attacking mutants who they had identified through their obvious, visible mutations.’

‘Which _was_ what was happening,’ Erik said, frowning.

‘Well – yes,’ Charles agreed. ‘It was. But what if that’s only scratching the surface, Erik? What if that’s only the most visible part of this – this _operation_ that has been going on? Think about it. We never looked for murders that didn’t match the Sabretooth killer’s MO. We never even went looking for victims _without_ a visible mutation … We made an assumption based on the fact that all of the victims we _found_ were visibly different, and so we didn’t account for the ones that we _didn’t_ find. As far as we knew, this serial killer was choosing his victims based on their unusual _looks_. Even after we found Creed we assumed that he was targeting mutants with physical mutations …’ Charles shook his head helplessly. ‘We were stupid. You and I both know all too well that there are mutants out there who can pass for normal in public – mutants without fur or wings or scales – and yet we didn’t even consider that _they_ might be victims too…’

Erik didn’t say anything. He watched Charles quietly.

‘… I’m probably not making any sense,’ Charles said with a grimace, roughly running his hands through his hair. ‘Let me try this a bit slower. What I’m trying to say is that – look, the mutants that we have found so far – I think we can agree that they were killed because of their visible mutations, yes? But maybe – _maybe_ – we’ve been wrong to think that this was purely a hate crime. That the … _messiness_ of it all was simply a product of Creed’s savagery. Maybe it’s more _practical_ than that. The victims were _killed_ because they were mutants, yes – but maybe, in reality, maybe the _only_ reason those _particular_ victims were _mutilated_ was—’

‘To cover up the fact that they were mutants,’ Erik finished, his face darkening with understanding. ‘To cover up the fact that _these_ mutants had _visible_ mutations.’

‘Yes!’ Charles’s hands trembled as he again ran his hands through his hair in agitation. ‘So you see – there would be no reason to _mutilate_ the mutants with non-visible mutations … no need to _kill_ them in the _same way_ as the others. There would be no need to involve _Creed_. It would be a completely different MO! These victims could be killed just the same as other human beings and no one would know the difference!’

Erik stared at Charles, his knuckles white. ‘So you’re saying that all this time – there could have been hundreds of mutants murdered under our very noses and we wouldn’t have known? My god, Charles,’ he took a ragged breath. ‘Who is doing this to us?’

Charles closed his eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, shaking his head grimly. ‘But at least we now know what our next step is.’ He met Erik’s eyes. ‘We need to confirm our suspicions and see if this is what has really been happening. We need to get our hands on more records. We need to look at other case files – unsolved murders, suspicious deaths, anything even _vaguely_ out of the ordinary. We have to find out what we missed.’

Erik grimaced. ‘That might be more of a problem than it sounds. It’s not a simple matter of breaking in or altering a few minds any more, Charles. There’s too much bureaucracy now, too many hoops to jump through. Not to mention that the system has changed a few dozen times since I used it last, and as for you – I wouldn’t be surprised if they were still using paper and pens when _you_ were last in the office.’

‘You know very well that we had computers just the same as anyone,’ Charles said dryly. ‘But I get your point. I don’t suppose you can put in a request?’ he asked, sounding doubtful. ‘You must have a few contacts back at the department … What do you usually do when you need to see police case files nowadays?’

‘I have a few contacts,’ Erik agreed grimly. ‘But I only use them for my current clients. I don’t use them for _this_ case. And – now that we suspect what we do – I think it’s best if we don’t start now, either.’

‘You have a point,’ Charles sighed. ‘Very well. What would you suggest?’

Erik was silent for a moment. Then, ‘Leave it to me,’ he said after a minute, his expression flickering into one of resolve. ‘I think I might know a way.’

Charles studied his face for a moment, curious. Then, seeing the stone-hard determination on Erik’s face, he slowly nodded in agreement. ‘Okay,’ he said, meeting Erik’s eyes. ‘Okay then. I’ll leave it to you.’

Erik didn’t move his eyes away. ‘You won’t be disappointed,’ he promised.

*****

Two days later, Erik received a large crate filled with copies of supposedly confidential police records delivered straight to his door. There was no messenger to be found when he opened the door and there was no address located anywhere on or inside the box … but then there didn’t need to be.

Only one other thing was found in the crate apart from the files. A single sheet of paper with just five words and a letter of the alphabet written on it:

 

_Erik,_

_Take care of him._

_\-- R_

*****

‘Whoa,’ Charles let out a low whistle. ‘Will you listen to this? “ _Victim was shot thirty-five times in the chest_ ”. Erik, I think this could be one of us.’

Erik glanced up from the file he had been reading and frowned. ‘How so?’ he asked, blinking blearily. He and Charles had spent the last 48 hours going through as many files as they could and they still weren’t even a third of the way through. 

‘Well,’ Charles leaned forward when he saw Erik look his way. ‘For one, the victim was shot _thirty-five_ times and yet he’s not been cut to ribbons. I don’t know about you, but I would say that that’s pretty impressive.’

Erik nodded. ‘Go on,’ he said guardedly.

Charles continued. ‘Well, for another,’ his eyes drifted down the report, ‘It says here in the write-up that the victim was shot thirty-five times, but – and here’s the interesting bit, Erik – only _nine_ of those shots occurred post-mortem.’

Erik blinked slowly. ‘So what you are saying is that this guy survived over twenty-five shots to the chest before he finally died?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing in thought.

‘Yes,’ Charles nodded. ‘And the shooter – or perhaps _shooters_ , I should say, considering that there were two kinds of bullets recovered from the body – continued firing even after just to make sure that he really was dead.’

‘So what do you think?’ Erik leaned forward keenly. ‘Accelerated healing ability? Like Creed?’

Charles frowned. ‘Something like that,’ he agreed. ‘Although I doubt that his ability was as strong as Creed’s. I don’t think that even a _hundred_ bullets to the chest would have slowed _him_ down.’

‘Hmm,’ Erik was glancing down at the photograph of the deceased victim, a grim expression on his face. ‘He doesn’t seem … He looks completely … _human_.’ He looked up to see Charles watching him.

‘We’re all human, Erik,’ Charles said quietly as their eyes met. ‘Some of us are just … more developed than others.’

‘If you say so,’ Erik grunted. 

‘ _Science_ says so,’ Charles said patiently. ‘I’m just a … conduit for its teachings.’ 

Erik blinked and turned to look at him. ‘Do you even hear yourself sometimes?’ he asked, shaking his head. ‘I hope you didn’t say that sort of thing around your students, Charles. I don’t know how they would be able to respect you if you did.’

‘They respected me plenty,’ Charles said with a lazy smile. ‘They thought I was groovy.’

Erik barely held back a snort at that. ‘I almost hate that I ought to disillusion you,’ he drawled. 

Charles’s expression turned grave. ‘Oh believe me,’ he said grimly, looking at the pictures spread out before him. ‘I am quite disillusioned already.’

Erik’s smile faded. ‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said tiredly. He then sighed and ran a hand over his face. ‘Christ, Charles,’ he said, grimacing as he looked down at the file in his hands. ‘How are we still so clueless about this case? We thought it was humans who were targeting mutants and then it turned out that it was Creed. We thought it was a lone serial killer and now it turns out that there’s more than one. We thought that the victims were limited to mutants with visible mutations and then we find that others are being targeted as well. There’s no rhyme or reason for any of it. There’s no _logic_ , no _pattern_. It makes no _sense_.’

‘It does make sense,’ Charles said quietly, shaking his head. ‘And there _is_ logic, and there _is_ a pattern. We just don’t know what that is yet.’

Erik cursed under his breath, rising to his feet and running his hands through his hair. ‘Who knows if we’ll ever find out,’ he said bitterly, his face screwed up in a mixture of anger and weariness. ‘Whoever is doing this is mad, Charles. We’re finding no explanation for any of this because there _is_ no explanation.’

But Charles shook his head again. ‘There is an explanation for this, Erik,’ he said, his tone firm. ‘There is a pattern – a link – _something_. I have to believe that.’

Erik didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘And – if there isn’t?’ he asked quietly, looking up at last and meeting Charles’s eyes. ‘If, after everything, we still don’t find a link or a pattern or an explanation. What then?’

Charles took a deep breath and met Erik’s gaze. ‘Then we just go on looking,’ he said.

*****

Eight days later, they found it.

*****

‘Erik.’

Charles’s voice broke through Erik’s haze of concentration and he looked up, distracted. ‘Yes?’ he said, frowning.

‘Look something up for me, would you?’

Erik sat up and, rubbing a hand over his face, set aside the papers in his lap. ‘What is it?’ he asked, raising a hand towards the computer on the table. 

‘Actually, you might not need to look it up,’ Charles continued, lowering his feet from where he had been resting them against the desk. ‘Maybe you’ve heard of it yourself.’

‘What is it?’ Erik asked again, looking slightly impatient.

‘Just this thing that I’ve come across in the Drake file. From the way they’ve written it, it sounds as if they assume that everyone reading it will know what they’re on about, but I—’

‘Charles.’

‘Something called the Brotherhood Initiative,’ Charles finished quickly. ‘It’s probably not important but I was wondering what it is. I don’t know if you know of it, but it might be useful to—’

‘Wait,’ Erik interrupted him, frowning. ‘The Brotherhood?’

Charles glanced up sharply. ‘You know of it?’

Erik nodded slowly. ‘Yeah. It’s one of those projects backed by the city. The Mayor’s pet project, I believe.’ At Charles’s unceasing frown he continued. ‘It’s a sort of rehabilitation organisation,’ he explained. ‘Helps people get back into society. Addicts, drunks, prostitutes, disadvantaged youths, the homeless … anyone. It received a lot of attention when it started up, all sorts of good press. It’s supposed to have done great things for the people here. It’s quite a feather in the council’s cap.’

‘You sound as if you approve,’ Charles said cautiously.

Erik gave him a sharp look. ‘Wouldn’t you?’ he demanded.

Charles raised his hands in concession. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘They sound like they do good work.’

Erik watched him. ‘But …’ he said, raising an eyebrow. 

‘But,’ Charles agreed with a sigh, which quickly morphed into a frown. ‘It’s just – I’m sure that it’s not the first time that I …’ Charles went still. Then he abruptly started digging into the large, messy pile of folders that lay at his feet, his fingers scrabbling at the ground. He picked up a file, then grimaced and dropped it, before once more diving into the pile. A minute later he re-emerged, looking triumphant as he held a slender folder aloft. ‘Got it,’ he said, sounding pleased. ‘Now let’s just see …’ He started to flick through the file.

‘What are you looking for?’ Erik asked curiously, leaning forward, his eyes tracking Charles’s movements intently.

‘Just something that I thought I saw,’ Charles murmured. ‘You see, one of the benefits of having an eidetic memory is that you – aha!’ 

‘What?’ Erik’s voice was sharper now as he moved closer to get a better look. ‘What have you found?’

‘Here,’ Charles pointed to a line of text at the bottom of the report, no more than a footnote. ‘Read this.’

‘“ _Victim’s sister claims that he was seeking help from the local Initiative centre for his drug problem but members claim not to have seen him; victim is thought to have frequently lied about his whereabouts_ ”,’ Erik read aloud. He turned to look at Charles.

‘I’d read that a little while back,’ Charles explained. ‘But I suppose I just assumed that it was some sort of drug rehabilitation programme. But when I read about the Brotherhood Initiative in the Drake file …’

‘It caught your attention,’ Erik finished for him, nodding. ‘It makes sense.’ He frowned. ‘But Charles – the Brotherhood is a high-profile, government sanctioned project. The Mayor himself was responsible for its creation. If you’re thinking what I think you are—’

‘I am,’ Charles said firmly.

‘—then,’ Erik paused before taking a deep breath. ‘Then this may be even worse than we initially believed.’

Charles studied him. ‘You don’t think that I’m imagining this,’ he said cautiously. ‘That the idea is ludicrous. You think that it’s an actual possibility?’

Erik grimaced. ‘It’s still far too early to tell,’ he said grimly, shaking his head. ‘But it’s a lead and god knows that we need one of those right now. Besides,’ he added. ‘It makes sense.’ His mouth twisted. ‘The people who approach the Brotherhood are all vulnerable and alone and in need of help of some kind – it would be the perfect hunting ground. The ideal place to choose your victims.’

‘Exactly,’ Charles nodded, his eyes alight with fervour. ‘Which means that there’s a good chance that we’ve found Ground Zero for the killings.’

‘Don’t get too ahead of yourself,’ Erik warned, but his own eyes were starting to blaze. ‘It could just be a coincidence. It’s not so unusual for two random individuals to have attended such a programme. We’ll need to confirm, see if other victims were part of the Brotherhood as well. We need to be sure of this, Charles – we need to make sure that we’re not just seeing what we want to see.’

‘So we’ll go on and keep checking the files,’ Charles said immediately. ‘The newer ones _and_ the old ones. See if we missed any indications that the victims were involved with the Brotherhood or any sort of therapy or support group. And if that doesn’t work then we’ll interview the families and friends. See if they know anything that didn’t make it into the report.’

Erik gave him a firm nod. ‘Well then,’ he said, straightening up. ‘We’ve found our pattern. Let’s get started.’

*****

Thirty-eight hours and countless assorted filed later, both Erik and Charles were slumped forward in their seats, looking completely exhausted.

‘Well,’ Charles said after a moment. ‘I don’t think that there is any urgent need to talk to the victims’ friends and families anymore.’

‘No,’ Erik said slowly, his expression grim. ‘I think we have all we need right here.’ 

‘I think we do,’ Charles agreed bleakly. He raised his hand and slowly dragged it through his hair. ‘We’ve found our link.’

‘Yes.’

‘Our link to the murders of Armando and Angel and Warren and god only knows how many others.’

‘Yes.’

There was a long, heavy pause.

Then Erik’s face twisted into a grimace and he abruptly looked away, an expression of anger and self-loathing marring his face. ‘ _Christ_ , Charles. It was all right here. How did we not see this?’

‘We didn’t have the files,’ Charles said quietly. He was calm, but his eyes were dull and he looked bone-tired. ‘We were operating on assumptions and half-baked ideas that no one else was willing to follow up on. We made the connections that no one else would – no one else _could_ have made.’

‘This is more than that, Charles,’ Erik said, shaking his head vehemently. ‘The humans may not have known about mutants but that doesn’t excuse them for this. How did no one see that the Brotherhood Initiative’s members were disappearing? That _children_ were disappearing, Charles, _children_! _Someone_ must have seen that. Someone must have known about it.’

‘You forget,’ Charles said quietly. ‘There is every reason to believe that Sh— that the murderers have a telepath on their side. Perhaps there really was no way of knowing.’

Erik’s head shot and he stared at Charles, narrowing his eyes. ‘The murderers,’ he repeated. ‘That’s not what you were going to say.’

Charles didn’t say anything. 

‘What were you going to say, Charles?’ Erik pressed, leaning forward, his eyes blazing intently. ‘You were going to say something. Say it.’

Charles met his eyes.

‘ _Say_ it.’

‘Shaw,’ Charles said quietly. ‘I was going to say Sebastian Shaw.’

Erik closed his eyes. 

‘It makes sense,’ Charles said quietly. ‘You know it does.’

‘You’re—’ Erik started before shaking his head and stopping.

‘Jumping to conclusions?’ Charles asked lightly, finishing the sentence for him. ‘Letting my imagination run away with me?’

But Erik shook his head. ‘That’s not what I was going to say,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I was going to say that you’re probably right.’ When Charles’s head jerked up in surprise he let out a sigh. ‘There are too many red flags, Charles, too many things that don’t add up. The interest that Shaw took in the case, for example – the number of times that McCone would haul us in to check up on us, yelling at us because the Councilman’s Office – _Shaw’s_ office – was breathing down his neck the whole time … the pressure we faced to clear this case up _quickly_ , the dead-ends we faced when we looked too far …’ He shook his head. ‘There are too many things that jump out at me now, that make me wonder …’ He then glanced up and looked Charles straight in the eye. ‘That does not mean that we aren’t getting ahead of ourselves, Charles. It does not mean that we’re right about this. You need to remember that.’ He saw Charles’s jaw tighten and watched as he gave him a curt nod. Erik gave him a grim smile and continued. ‘I know we’re badly in need of new leads but if we’re doing this then we need to do it properly. We need to go where the evidence takes us, not take the evidence where we want it to go.’

‘Believe me,’ Charles said with a tight smile. ‘I don’t want to take the evidence anywhere near where my thoughts are going. But if that’s where it all leads …’

‘Then that’s where we’ll go,’ Erik finished, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

They were silent for a long moment.

‘What _if_ , though?’

Erik looked up.

Charles was gazing at the wall, his expression distant and his forehead creased. ‘What if we’re right?’ he asked slowly. ‘I know that chances are that he isn’t involved at all, but what if he _is_? What then? What do we do?’

Erik scrubbed his hand over his face again and then pushed himself up. ‘Then we take him down,’ he said firmly, leaning forward in his chair and forcing Charles to look at him. ‘We do all we can to build a case against that fucker and then we tear him the fuck down. That’s what we do.’

Charles nodded, an expression of determination crossing his face. ‘That’s what we do,’ he repeated. He then closed his eyes. ‘I still can’t believe it,’ he said quietly, shaking his head. ‘We’re talking about _Shaw_ , Erik. _Councilman Shaw_. The same man who handed us our commendations for the Creed case! Erik, we were staring him in the _face_.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Erik said grimly. ‘And don’t forget, it’s not “Councilman” anymore. He’s moved up in the world since you were last here, Charles. It’s _Mayor_ Shaw, now.’

Charles grimaced. ‘Yes,’ he said tightly, his hands balling into fists. ‘I realise that.’ He closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath. ‘Christ.’ Then he said it again, this time more vehemently. ‘ _Christ_. The _Mayor_ , Erik. We’re saying that the fucking _Mayor_ is involved in this!’

‘Involved?’ Erik let out a snort, even as his eyes remained ice cold. ‘The motherfucker is probably _running_ the whole damn thing.’

‘Christ,’ Charles said again, running a ragged hand through his hair. His eyes were blown wide with disbelief. ‘ _Christ_ Erik – it’s the _Mayor_. The whole thing leads back to the bloody _Mayor_. Do you know what this means?’

‘I know,’ Erik said through gritted teeth.

But Charles shook his head. ‘No, Erik – I’m not sure you do. This is _Shaw_ we are talking about. I’ve spent the last half hour looking him up and every single thing I’ve read just makes it worse.’ He gestured to the computer. ‘He’s got his fingers _everywhere_ – politics, business, education, _everything_. What’s even worse is that everyone seems to _love_ him! He’s a governor on the school board, he’s the patron of a hundred different charities, and Erik – Erik, he’s the chairman of the _police review board_!’

Erik was silent for a moment as this sank in. Then: ‘Fuck.’

Charles didn’t say anything.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Erik said again, this time more vehemently. He brought his palms up to his face, covering his eyes for a long moment, before slowly dragging his hands away. ‘This isn’t going to be easy, is it?’ he said, his voice hoarse.

‘Has anything about this case been easy?’ Charles asked tiredly.

‘Good point.’ Erik’s said, his expression grim. He then sighed. ‘We’re going to need alcohol for this, aren’t we?’ he said resignedly.

‘Oh yes,’ Charles replied, giving him a thin, sharp smile as he reached across the desk and grasped hold of a half-empty bottle of scotch. ‘We’re going to need a _lot_ of alcohol.’


	9. Chapter 9

The visitors arrived shortly before noon.

Erik and Charles had been sprawled around Erik’s rooms, poring through their case files, when the arrival of a car on the street outside the office caused them both to pause in their work. They held themselves very still for a moment, each of them using their powers to gauge the situation, before turning to meet the other’s gaze. 

‘Charles.’ The name was a question; Erik sounded tense, his muscles coiled with restrained energy as he tracked the movements of the car with his powers.

Charles chewed his lip, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration. ‘It’s Detectives MacTaggert and Levine,’ he said after a minute, the tension in his face dissipating as he relaxed. ‘They’re here to have a word … and to make sure that we know that they are keeping an eye on us,’ he added wryly.

Erik’s shoulders settled imperceptibly at the news even as his lips thinned. ‘Well they can fuck off,’ he growled, turning away with a sound of irritation. ‘The only thing that I’ll tell them is—’

‘Perhaps I ought to take this one,’ Charles interrupted smoothly, causing Erik’s head to jerk up in surprise. 

‘You’ll go talk to them?’ he asked, sounding sceptical. 

Charles shrugged. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I rather enjoyed talking to them. Especially that charming Detective MacTaggert.’

Erik rolled his eyes. ‘You just like talking to them because they’ll never tell you to shut up,’ he said, shaking his head with amused exasperation. ‘You can go on talking about whatever shit you want to talk about – shit that no one else would listen to – and _they_ will listen because they’re so desperate to hear you incriminate yourself.’

Charles smirked. ‘Am I really that transparent?’ he asked, grinning.

Erik huffed out a laugh and shrugged. ‘You are to me,’ he said simply. He caught Charles’s eyes and held the gaze.

Charles returned the look, staring back unblinkingly. ‘You know,’ he said after a moment, his voice quiet and abruptly solemn. ‘If we are right about this – about Shaw being behind this – then we’ll need all the help that we can get.’

The soft look in Erik’s eyes faded. ‘Are you saying what I think you are saying?’ he asked in a low voice.

Charles hesitated and then nodded. ‘I think we need to start thinking about how we want to handle this,’ he said grimly. ‘About what we’ll need to do.’

Erik watched him for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he slowly dipped his head down into a nod. ‘We will talk about this again,’ he said quietly, ‘but for now you should do what you think best.’ He met Charles’s eyes. ‘I trust your judgement, Charles.’

Charles went still and he stared at Erik, an odd expression on his face. When Erik met his gaze unflinchingly, he licked his lips and made to open his mouth as if to speak. At that moment, however, there was a knock on the outer office door and – like a switch had been flipped – the tension in the atmosphere abruptly dissipated. The moment was gone.

Charles turned away and cocked his head towards the door connecting Erik’s living rooms to the office, listening thoughtfully to something beyond the knocking. Then, taking a deep breath, he drew back and gave Erik a wry smile. ‘Well,’ he murmured. ‘Once more unto the breach and all that …’ And, turning around, he headed to the door, opened it and went through.

*****

The Detectives were silent as Charles let them into the office, following him as he led them to the desk. They looked around curiously as they settled in, their eyes lingering on the walls and on the table in front of them.

Charles waited until they had been seated before he too sat down. He did not offer them a drink.

‘You are alone, Mr. Xavier?’ MacTaggert asked when they had all settled in. Her voice was bland, neither curious nor hostile.

Charles glanced about him as if to check. ‘I appear to be, don’t I?’ he agreed.

‘Where’s your boyfriend?’ Levine asked snidely, speaking before MacTaggert could continue and folding his arms across his chest.

Charles raised an eyebrow in his direction, looking thoroughly unimpressed. ‘If you mean _Erik_ ,’ he said coolly, ‘Then I am afraid that I do not know. He’s not here, if that is what you are asking.’

Levine let out a snort. ‘Like we believe that.’

‘You won’t deny that you and Mr. Lehnsherr have been in contact, however?’ MacTaggert asked, narrowing her eyes at her partner briefly before turning back to Charles.

Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course I won’t deny it,’ he drawled. ‘It would be extraordinarily foolish to do so, considering that we three are currently situated in _his_ office.’ He paused for a moment, idly taking in the detectives’ embarrassed expressions, before continuing. ‘Besides, I am _quite_ sure that your informants have been keeping you well acquainted with our movements.’ He raised an eyebrow at the two suddenly-tense detectives opposite him. ‘You really should tell your men to be more discreet the next time that they try to tail us, Detectives,’ he said sweetly, his smile thin and cold. ‘They were terribly obvious. I felt almost _embarrassed_ for them.’

Levine scowled, looking furious. MacTaggert simply narrowed her eyes. ‘Yes well,’ she said with a grim smile. ‘It’s not often that our men are called upon to tail a former member of the police department.’

‘No,’ Charles said wryly. ‘They just tail dangerous and paranoid members of the criminal underworld.’

Neither MacTaggert nor Levine said anything in response to that.

‘So,’ MacTaggert began after an awkward minute had passed. ‘It appears that you and Mr. Lehnsherr are working together once again. When did this happy renewal of your friendship occur, Mr. Xavier?’

‘Oh, I’m not too sure that I would call it a friendship …’ Charles demurred. 

Levine let out a snort. ‘Don’t be so coy, Xavier. We know the two of you have been cosying up lately. Barely leave the house, so our boys say.’

‘Is that right?’ Charles asked idly, sounding completely uninterested. ‘Then I’m afraid that your _boys_ must have been terribly bored, waiting outside all the time.’

MacTaggert ignored this exchange, refusing to be sidetracked. ‘Why are you still here, Mr. Xavier?’ she demanded, watching him intently. ‘You could have left immediately after our interview, but you decided to stay instead. Why is that?’ 

Charles didn’t react. 

‘From all accounts you were doing very well overseas before you inexplicably decided to return,’ MacTaggert continued, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Why did you even come back here? Is it because of the murders? Did Erik Lehnsherr ask you to return?’

Charles did not answer.

MacTaggert let out a sigh of exasperation and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Why did you meet with Lehnsherr again, Mr. Xavier?’ she demanded impatiently. ‘Have you discussed the case with him? Did you and Mr. Lehnsherr renew your acquaintance because of the murders?’

Charles studied her for a long moment. ‘We can’t escape our pasts, Detective,’ he said at last, his voice soft and contemplative. ‘It all catches up to us eventually, no matter how far we try to run away from it. There is no escaping it. I tried to live my life unburdened, away from my past, away everything that had happened here, but in the end I realised that it was unfeasible. The universe just doesn’t work that way. It was inevitable that I would return, that I would come back to this. Time is a flat circle, you see.’ He paused, thoughtful. ‘And that, Detective MacTaggert, is the only real reason that I can give for why I am here now. That is why I returned to Erik. Because to do otherwise was impossible.’

There was a moment of complete silence from the two detectives. Then:

‘The fuck does that mean?’ Levine burst out, incredulous. ‘“Time is a flat circle” –  
What kind of hippie shit is that? You think this is a _joke_ , Xavier? You think this is _funny_?’

‘Quiet, Levine,’ MacTaggert snapped, watching Charles closely. ‘I know it’s hard to believe, but I don’t think that Mr. Xavier was being entirely as facetious as you think he was.’ She cocked her head to the side. ‘Why did you return, Mr. Xavier?’ she asked again. ‘And no riddles this time, please.’

Charles sighed. ‘You know why I returned, Detective,’ he said quietly. ‘I returned because it was time to.’

‘How do you figure that?’

Charles glanced up at the plain white office ceiling. ‘I simply paid attention,’ he said easily, staring upwards in apparent fascination.

Levine let out a snort and turned away, shaking his head. 

MacTaggert said nothing. She studied Charles for a moment. ‘The murders started again just after you returned,’ she said. 

Charles’s eyes flickered over to her. ‘No.’

Levine raised his eyebrow. ‘No?’ he asked, disbelievingly.

‘No,’ Charles agreed. ‘That’s not what happened.’

‘Then what did happen, Mr. Xavier?’ Moira asked quietly.

Charles sighed. ‘The murders didn’t start again when I returned, Detective MacTaggert’ he said, sounding almost bored. ‘ _I_ returned when the murders started happening.’

Levine scoffed at that. ‘Yeah right,’ he sneered. ‘I checked the dates, Xavier. The McCoy murder happened _after_ you came back here.’

Charles’s expression did not change but his eyes turned a degree frostier. ‘I wasn’t referring to the McCoy case,’ he said coldly.

‘Then whose?’ Moira leaned forward intently. ‘What case brought you back here, Mr. Xavier?’

Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘Do your homework, Detective MacTaggert,’ he said coolly. ‘You’re the one with the badge, after all.’

‘Police work is not just about doing one’s homework, Mr. Xavier,’ MacTaggert replied evenly, unfazed by his words. ‘As I am sure that you know all too well.’

‘I do,’ Charles inclined his head. His lips curled up in a smile. ‘I also know how frustrating it is when facing an uncooperative interviewee.’

‘You planning on helping us out then?’ Levine demanded, looking almost hopeful.

Charles cocked his head. ‘… No,’ he said after a moment. ‘I always did want to find out what it was like on this side of the table. Turns out it’s rather amusing.’

Levine cursed under his breath and sank back in his seat, glaring at Charles. MacTaggert, on the other hand, was watching him, eyeing him closely.

‘You do not strike me as a man prone to making trouble for no reason, Mr. Xavier,’ she said slowly, her eyes still boring into Charles’s. She ignored the huff of incredulity from Levine and carried on. ‘So the fact that you are deliberately doing so now … it makes me curious.’

Charles regarded her for a moment, his expression suddenly solemn. ‘There are things going on here,’ he said in a low voice, leaning forward so that he and MacTaggert were face to face, ignoring Levine completely. ‘Things that most people would find hard to believe. Erik – Mr. Lehnsherr – and I are on a path now that not many other people could follow – and that is for the best.’ He met MacTaggert’s eyes unblinkingly, his expression now deadly serious. ‘But that does not mean that we do not need you, Detective MacTaggert, because we do. We _will_. When the time comes … it is likely that we will rely on your help before all others.’

‘And then will you tell me what is going on?’ MacTaggert asked in a low, equally intent voice. By this time she too was ignoring all traces of her partner’s existence and focusing wholly on Charles.

Charles did not respond for a moment. Then, ‘Perhaps,’ he said, inclining his head cautiously. ‘If you prove to be open to it.’ The _you_ in his sentence was emphasised all too clearly.

‘And how would I do that?’ MacTaggert asked, still watching him keenly.

‘By coming when we call you,’ Charles replied, meeting her eyes with an equally firm gaze of his own. ‘By being willing to believe what we tell you no matter how strange or outlandish it might sound.’

‘I’m not sure I ought to,’ Moira’s brow furrowed. ‘Believe you, that is. It isn’t as if either you or Lehnsherr have given us any reason to.’

‘I know,’ Charles said calmly. His gaze then became more intent. ‘Which is why I ask you to trust us. I know that all this must make you impatient, Detective—’

‘I’ll say,’ muttered Levine.

‘—but believe me when I say that it is for the best. You will know the truth, when the time comes.’

Moira bit her lip. ‘I have to ask this,’ she said at last, looking up to meet Charles’s gaze. ‘And I want you to answer it truthfully.’

Charles raised a polite eyebrow and waited.

Detective MacTaggert took a deep breath. ‘Did you do it?’ she asked, leaning forward over the desk. ‘Are you or Erik Lehnsherr responsible for any of these murders? Are either of you involved at all in these murders that have taken place?’

Charles opened his mouth and slowly exhaled. ‘No,’ he said quietly, not looking away from MacTaggert’s searching gaze. ‘Neither Erik nor I are in any way responsible for these murders.’ He then paused. ‘But as for us being involved?’ His mouth quirked up wryly. ‘Well, we are, but only as much as the next mildly obsessed detective who has been trying to catch the same murderous psychopath for the better part of a decade.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that enough for you, Detective MacTaggert?’

Moira eyed him for a minute. Then she nodded once sharply and pulled back, a grim expression on her face. ‘Very well,’ she said, leaning back in her seat. ‘I suppose I can work with that.’

‘You’ve got to be joking!’ Levine sputtered, looking at her in horror. He ignored the quelling look MacTaggert sent him. ‘You’re going to believe him just because he _says_ so? Give me a break, MacTaggert, what are we, a bunch of five year olds?’

‘That’s enough, Levine,’ Moira said sharply, glaring at him. ‘I said that I believed him, but that doesn’t mean that I trust him.’ She turned back to Charles. ‘We will wait for your call, Mr. Xavier, and we will come when you ask, but make no mistake about it – I will have an explanation – a _full_ explanation – from you when the time comes. Do you understand me?’

‘I understand, Detective,’ Charles nodded solemnly. ‘You will get your explanation.’

‘Good.’ Moira straightened up. ‘That will be all then, Mr. Xavier. I presume you have our contact details?’

‘I do.’

‘Very well,’ Moira rose to her feet. ‘Then we will await your call.’

Levine still looked sullen as he rose from his seat. ‘Don’t leave it too long,’ he sneered. ‘Or we might start getting impatient.’

Charles gave him a cool smile. ‘For you, Detective Levine, we will try our very best.’

Levine’s lip curled but he followed Detective MacTaggert as she walked out of the room, not turning to look back once.

Charles sat there for a moment, looking thoughtful.

After a minute, the door from the inner room opened up, revealing Erik who was standing there, leaning against the door frame. ‘So,’ he said, watching Charles carefully.

‘So,’ Charles agreed.

They were both silent for a moment.

‘Do you want to get back to work?’ Erik asked.

‘Yes please,’ Charles said and rose from his seat.

*****

‘Are you certain that no one knows we’re here?’ Erik asked for the hundredth time that night.

‘I’m _sure_ ,’ Charles said patiently. ‘I don’t know why you’re so worried, Erik.’

Erik’s eyebrows rose. ‘We’re parked outside the Mayor’s house, Charles,’ he said flatly. ‘And we’re sitting in the car scoping the place out. At night. In plain view of the house. And neither of us have any sort of authority to be here.’

‘We have the highest authority,’ Charles corrected him. ‘We have justice on our side, Erik. We’re here to right wrongs and save lives. What more could we need?’

‘A warrant?’ Erik said dryly. ‘A police badge? How about a better stakeout position? And, while we’re at it, a view into the Mayor’s mansion and photographic evidence that the guy’s who we think he is? I’d say _that’s_ what we need.’

Charles rolled his eyes. ‘In due time, my friend,’ he said soothingly. ‘All in good time.’

Erik made a noise of impatience. ‘We don’t _have_ time,’ he said sharply. ‘The longer we take, the more chances there are that someone else is going to be murdered. We’ve already been sat out here every night for almost a week, Charles. We can’t afford to drag this out any longer than we already have.’

Charles’s lips formed a thin line. ‘So what do you propose we do?’ he asked coldly, narrowing his eyes at Erik. ‘I assume that you have an alternative in mind?’

Erik was silent for a moment. Then he raised his chin. ‘We break in,’ he said evenly. ‘We wait till the Mayor and all his staff are gone and then we break in.’

‘You want to break in,’ Charles repeated flatly. ‘To the Mayor’s house.’

‘Why not?’ Erik scowled. ‘Between the two of us it will be easy.’

‘And what would be the purpose of this break in exactly?’ 

‘To gather evidence!’ Erik snapped, glaring at Charles. ‘What other purpose would there be?’

‘So you think that Shaw will just keep evidence lying around his home?’ Charles asked coldly. ‘Do you really think that you’ll find – what? – bits of skin from our victims? A murder weapon?’ He shook his head. ‘If what we believe is true, then Shaw has been able to rise up and become Mayor with the attention of both the media and the public fixed on him while at the same time living a secret life as some sort of mutant-exterminating serial killer. He hasn’t managed to do that by being careless or by taking chances. You underestimate him, Erik.’

‘And you _over_ estimate him,’ Erik retorted, his fists clenched. ‘At the end of the day the man is a murderer, Charles. Nothing more than that. And if there’s one thing that we know then it’s that all murderers enjoy keeping trophies.’

‘Shaw is not like all murderers though, Erik,’ Charles said grimly. ‘We don’t even know if he’s the one doing the killing himself – remember Creed, for heaven’s sake. Remember that this extends far beyond a single man, and that we have no idea who is part of it. It could be anyone. And that makes this all the more dangerous for the two of us and therefore all the more necessary that we think this through and not do anything colossally _stupid_.’

‘Better that than to do nothing!’ Erik said angrily.

‘We are not doing _nothing_!’ Charles protested, his own ire rising. ‘We just aren’t rushing headlong into something without giving it any thought.’

Erik glared at him. ‘And that’s so very different from what you do, is it?’ he sneered.

Charles sighed. ‘I can be impulsive,’ he admitted, ‘But Erik, even you have to admit that this is foolhardy.’ Erik’s mouth only twisted further, causing Charles to rub his hand over his face in exasperation. ‘We can’t afford to be careless here, Erik. We need to be smart about this. We are the only two people who know what is going on here – what is _really_ going on here – and we can’t let anything get in the way of that. We need to see this through.’ He paused, biting his lip. ‘I know that means that we will have to sacrifice more than our morals before the end – that we already _have_ on more than one occasion – but I’m not prepared to lose you, Erik. Not yet. And not like this.’

He glanced up at Erik, who was watching him with a strange expression. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Then, slowly, Erik nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘Not yet.’

Charles’s eyes narrowed. He watched Erik for a moment. Then he turned away, his gaze once again returning to the house in front of them.

The rest of the evening was spent in silence.

*****

A week later, they still hadn’t found anything.

The edges of the metal gate around the Shaw mansion slowly started to twist and mangle, deteriorating further with each day that Charles and Erik spent on surveillance.

Neither of them said a word.

*****

Charles waited for Erik to shut the door gently behind him before making finally himself known.

‘Odd time to go for a walk, don’t you think?’

Erik paused, his hand still on the door handle. He waited a moment and then his shoulders slumped a little and he sighed. ‘Charles,’ he said evenly, turning around and stripping off his dark jacket. All of his clothes were black, from his shoes to his turtleneck. ‘You’re up late.’

Charles cocked an eyebrow. ‘One could say the same about you,’ he murmured, leaning back in his chair and surveying Erik thoughtfully. ‘ _Long_ walk, was it?’

Erik sighed. ‘We both know that I wasn’t out there for a walk, Charles,’ he said flatly. 

‘No?’ Charles appeared to look surprised. ‘Well, I can’t imagine what _other_ reason you would have for being out at this time of night.’

Erik glowered at him. ‘Stop being a shit,’ he grumbled, striding forward so that he could throw himself down in the chair opposite Charles’s. ‘You know exactly where I’ve been.’

Charles watched him. ‘Shaw,’ he said.

‘Shaw,’ Erik agreed.

Charles was silent for a moment. Then he swore. ‘ _Damn it_ , Erik.’

Erik didn’t flinch. 

‘I _told_ you not to go there,’ Charles said tightly, his eyebrows drawn and his expression taut. ‘I explicitly told you to not break in, and then what do you do?’

‘I break in,’ Erik said calmly.

‘You break in!’ Charles repeated, looking furious. ‘Without even telling me! What if something had gone wrong? What if you had been found out? Forget jail, Erik, you could have been _killed_! Don’t forget what sort of people we are dealing with – don’t forget what we have seen _done_ to people like ourselves!’

‘It is _because_ I haven’t forgotten those things that I went!’ Erik snarled, finally breaking his cool façade. ‘We can’t rely on passive investigation, Charles. We have done that for too long, and where has that got us? If we want to finish this – if we want to get Shaw – then we need to change the way we do things. We can’t just sit on our hands and wait for things to come our way. Not now.’

Charles’s jaw tightened and he looked away. ‘I won’t argue with you about this any more,’ he said in a clipped tone.

‘Then don’t.’

Charles glared at him. After a moment, however, he grimaced and shook his head. ‘Maybe that’s not entirely bad advice,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘There’s not really any point in arguing about it now, is there? What is done is done … and you don’t seem to be any worse for wear.’ He sent Erik a searching look, to which Erik shook his head. Charles shrugged. ‘So I suppose no harm was done.’ He then narrowed his eyes. ‘The question is, however, if any _good_ was done instead.’

Erik did not answer for a moment.

‘Erik?’ Charles prompted.

‘I searched the house,’ Erik said at last. ‘I knew the house would be empty tonight – Shaw is away for a government function, you told me so yourself – so I was able to do a thorough search.’

‘And?’

‘And …’ Erik hesitated. ‘And I couldn’t find anything incriminating,’ he said at last, sounding deflated. ‘If there’s any tangible evidence to be found on him, then it wasn’t at his home. There was nothing.’

Charles’s eyes narrowed.

‘Nothing that would hold up in a court of law, at any rate,’ Erik continued before Charles could make a scathing comment. ‘Shaw’s too smart for that, he’s too careful, like you said he would be.’ He paused. ‘But there were still … things. Odd things. Things that didn’t add up.’

‘Oh?’ Charles looked more interested now. ‘Such as?’

Erik shook his head. ‘Just things,’ he said, looking thoughtful. ‘No pictures of any family members or even from Shaw’s own childhood, for a start. The overblown security – he’s the Mayor, yes but there was far too much of it and it was far too high-tech for a simple politician. And then there’s the house itself.’ Erik fell silent for a moment. ‘The house, it felt so … _old_. It was only built a decade ago, as far as I can tell, but it’s full of antique personal possessions – not just furniture, Charles, but actual possessions … inkwells, and ivory combs, and handwritten inscriptions on books to strangers with foreign names … Things like that. Confusing. Not wrong, but not _right_ either.’

‘Hmm,’ Charles thought this over. ‘It could be just a fetish on Shaw’s part, but I understand your concern. What else did you find?’

‘Nothing amongst this papers, unfortunately. And nothing on his computer, either. Not the one in his house, at any rate.’

‘I doubt he would leave something that would compromise him out where anyone could find it,’ Charles agreed. ‘He’d keep that close.’

Erik nodded. ‘I agree.’

‘Did you find anything else?’

‘Yes,’ Erik said grimly. ‘The basement. Hidden away deep beneath the house. I wouldn’t have found it if I hadn’t been able to feel the iron bars with my powers, it was so well hidden, but I did, and I went there.’

‘And?’ Charles said at once, sitting up eagerly. ‘What did you find?’

Erik grimaced. ‘Not much,’ he said flatly. ‘And definitely not enough – though at the same time _just_ enough, if you understand me.’ He met Charles’s eyes. ‘There was a cell there, Charles. Strong iron bars, lock and key – the works. There was no one in there but I’m positive that that’s only due to bad timing on our part.’

‘Christ,’ Charles whispered.

‘There were other things as well,’ Erik continued. ‘Chains, ropes. That sort of thing.’

Charles was thinking fast. ‘We could check it for DNA,’ he muttered, his eyes bright. ‘We could go back and take a—’

But Erik was shaking his head. ‘No,’ he said grimly. ‘We can’t.’ He waited until Charles had looked up at him in surprise before continuing. ‘Bleach,’ he said. ‘The whole place stank of bleach. The walls, the floors, the bars, the chains … all of it.’

‘Shit.’

‘Yes,’ Erik smiled thinly. ‘They’ve done a very good clean up job. I was almost impressed.’

Charles breath came out in a low hiss. ‘And that was all?’ he demanded, clenching his fists. ‘There was nothing else?’

‘… There was one thing,’ Erik said, sounding slightly cautious. He took a deep breath and looked at Charles. ‘There was a scratch on the wall. A deep one. Gouges, really. Marks that we’ve seen before.’

Charles’s eyes widened. ‘Creed,’ he whispered. ‘Creed was there.’

‘Yes,’ Erik nodded. ‘I think it’s safe to say that he was. A long time ago, maybe, but even so. He was there.’

‘But this proves it!’ Charles sat up, his eyes shining. ‘We have a connection, Erik! We can prove that Creed and Shaw were connected!’

But Erik was shaking his head. ‘All we can prove is that Shaw and Creed may have owned the same type of dog,’ he said. ‘Or whatever wild animals they attributed those marks at Creed’s farm to.’

‘But the cell—’

‘A cage,’ Erik said coolly. ‘To keep the animal in.’

‘But—’

‘And where is this wild and fearsome animal now?’ Erik continued, pre-empting Charles’s protests. ‘Well, they found it simply too wild and dangerous so they had it put down. Simple, easily explained and, unfortunately, not the least bit criminal.’

Charles’s shoulders slumped. ‘Ah,’ he said after a pause. ‘I see your point.’ He then shook himself and sat up. ‘One good thing came out of this, at least.’ Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘We’re now completely certain that Shaw is the one that we’re looking for.’

‘You mean you weren’t certain before this?’ Erik asked.

‘It made sense,’ Charles shrugged. ‘And I believed it, but in truth all our thoughts on Shaw before this were purely speculative – even you must see that. Now, though – now we have the cell and, more importantly, a direct link between Shaw and Creed. Now we have proof.’

‘I already told you, Charles, no one’s going to—’

‘I didn’t mean proof that would pass legal muster,’ Charles shook his head. ‘I just meant that we had enough proof to eliminate any doubts we might have had about Shaw’s culpability. Now we know for sure that it’s him.’

Erik grunted. ‘I never had any doubts about Shaw being the right man,’ he said flatly. ‘I never liked him to begin with.’

‘He always came off as rather sleazy, didn’t he?’ Charles agreed. ‘Though I would never have guessed that it would be this bad.’ He sighed. ‘You know what we have to do next, of course?’

Erik gave him a sharp nod. ‘We need to get close to him.’

‘Yes.’ Charles pursed his lips. ‘Although that might be easier said than done.’

Erik took a step forward. ‘Then again,’ he said, stepping beside Charles and leaning against his chair. ‘It might not be as difficult as you expect.’ He met Charles’s gaze with a slight smirk. ‘There’s one more thing that I found at Shaw’s house.’

‘Oh?’

Erik reached into his pocket. ‘I found this in the bin,’ he explained, as he handed a folded piece of card over to Charles, who took it from him and carefully opened it up.

It was an invitation. Although it had been folded and shoved carelessly into a pocket, it was clear to see that it was intended to be quite fancy – the letters were elegantly printed in gold gilt lettering, with several unnecessary loops and flourishes, and the card itself was pale cream in colour and of very good quality. Charles took a moment to glance over it. The front of the card had a big smudge of ink on it, which was probably the reason why it had been binned, but the writing was still clearly visible:

_Mayor Sebastian Shaw asks for the honour of your presence at the Mayor’s ANNUAL FUNDRAISING GALA on the 20th of September._

Charles smiled. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I see.’

‘Read on,’ Erik gestured at the card. 

Charles turned his attention back to the invitation and skimmed down.

_… would like to welcome you … 7.30pm … This year the funds from the gala will be going towards the Brotherhood Initiative, a charity very close to the Mayor’s heart._

Charles slowly exhaled. ‘I must say,’ he said lightly. ‘The man has a lot of nerve. I’d almost be impressed if I wasn’t so revolted.’

‘“Revolted” is a rather tame description of how I’m feeling,’ Erik said tightly. ‘Can you believe this? That bastard is raising money for a charity that he came up with solely to use as a cover for torturing and murdering mutants.’

‘I know,’ Charles said quietly, lifting a hand and placing it soothingly on Erik’s arm. ‘And we will make him pay for it, I promise you Erik, we will.’ He glanced down to the invitation in his other hand. ‘And this,’ he said, raising the card, his expression growing determined, ‘is going to help us do it.’


	10. Chapter 10

Getting into the gala was surprisingly easy.

‘Everything okay?’ Erik muttered as they walked side by side through the hall and into the ballroom where the function was being held. His back was tense, belying his calm expression, and he was focusing firmly on the hidden weaponry that he could feel on the security personnel, ready to act at a moment’s notice. 

‘Just taking care of the doorman’s memories,’ Charles answered in an undertone, his brow furrowed in concentration. They had both dressed for the occasion – Charles had even condescended to have a haircut and a shave, much to Erik’s satisfaction – and so they blended in with the rest of the gala’s guests, while the invitation that Erik had procured from Shaw’s bin had eased their passage past the numerous security guards waiting outside. Even so, Charles and Erik were determined to take no chances.

‘Any problems?’ Erik enquired lightly, using his powers to discreetly angle a nearby security camera away from them.

‘No,’ Charles shook his head distantly, still concentrating hard. ‘I’m just making sure that there’s no one else around who might be paying us more attention than we’d like.’ A minute later his brow cleared and he straightened up. ‘Done,’ he announced in a low voice. ‘For now, at least.’

‘Just make sure that no one gives us more than a second look and we’ll be fine,’ Erik said, touching his hand to Charles’s arm in encouragement. His fingers tightened briefly. ‘At least – as long as we don’t run into Shaw’s telepath.’

‘There’s a good chance that we will.’ Charles’s expression was grim. ‘We’ll need to be careful, Erik. I’ll do my best to make sure that we travel under the radar, as it were, but that doesn’t mean that we should test the limits of our cover if at all possible.’

Erik nodded in understanding and then dropped his hand from Charles’s arm just as the two of them passed out of the hallway and into the ballroom. They came to a stop just past the threshold, pausing to take in the view.

‘Lots of people here,’ Erik said neutrally after a moment. 

‘Lot’s of _rich_ people,’ Charles agreed, narrowing his eyes at the crowd of well-dressed people crossing the floor. ‘Rich _important_ people. Shaw is very well connected.’

Erik’s lips thinned. ‘For a good reason,’ he said tightly. ‘No doubt these are the people who have made it so difficult for us to find him … which makes them our enemies just as much as Shaw is.’

‘I wouldn’t go as far as that,’ Charles said, frowning. ‘I’m sure most of them would be horrified to know what Shaw has been doing.’

‘Or they would approve,’ Erik shot back. ‘Don’t kid yourself, Charles – these people would want us all rounded up and locked away if they knew that we existed. Shaw’s just doing the job for them.’

‘You don’t believe that,’ Charles said with a frown, although his tone was doubtful. ‘Surely you can’t think that people would condone what is happening. Mutants may be different, but they are still people.’

‘Not to Shaw,’ Erik said grimly. ‘And not to many others, either. They just want to be rid of us.’ He glanced over at Charles, who was frowning. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

Charles shook his head. ‘Just a thought,’ he said slowly. ‘About Shaw’s motivations. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, really: why a mutant – Creed, or Shaw’s telepath for instance – would be helping to kill off other mutants. It doesn’t make sense.’ He sighed. ‘But that’s something that we should discuss later, I suppose, and not when we’re not in public.’

_We could always continue this conversation more privately_ , Erik suggested, even as he nodded tightly to an oncoming couple who glanced vaguely in their direction. 

_We could_ , Charles agreed. _But that would be missing the whole point of coming here. We should focus our attention on the matter at hand, not on things that are better discussed at another time._

_Understood_ , Erik nodded. Then he raised his head. ‘Do you see Shaw anywhere?’ he asked in an undertone, his eyes scanning the crowds in the ballroom.

‘Not yet,’ Charles answered, glancing around as well. ‘But I’m sure he’ll be along soon.’

‘Hmm,’ Erik made a noise of agreement, before turning and picking two glasses from the tray of a passing waiter. He turned and handed one to Charles. ‘Drink?’

Charles paused, looking at the glass for a moment, before shaking his head. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Not right now, thank you.’

Erik studied him for a minute and then nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said, before slowly turning and placing the extra glass down on a nearby table. He turned back to Charles and raised his glass with a wry smile. ‘Cheers.’

Charles followed the motion of his glass before forcibly dragging his attention away. ‘There are far too many people here,’ he grumbled, sliding his hands into his pockets and arching his neck to look over the crowds. ‘Who would have thought that murderers would be so popular?’

‘Just wait until we arrest the bastard,’ Erik said with a grim smile. ‘All rats leave a sinking ship, and I’m willing to bet that this place is full of them.’ He then paused and turned to Charles, a flicker of concern creasing his brow. ‘Will the crowds be a problem?’ he asked in a low voice.

Charles shrugged. ‘I’m doing my best to keep my wits about me,’ he said evenly. ‘But it’s taking a lot of effort to keep us shielded all the time.’

Erik frowned. ‘Maybe you should take it down a notch,’ he suggested, studying Charles closely. ‘After all, the only people we _really_ need to shield ourselves from are Shaw and his henchmen. And as much as you don’t like them, Charles, the crowds will probably work in our favour here. We’ll be fine as long as no one recognises us – and I don’t know about you, but I don’t make a habit of socialising with the rich and bigoted, so that’s unlikely to happen.’

Charles sighed. ‘I just want us to be safe,’ he murmured even as he reluctantly thinned the veil around them. ‘I don’t want to take any chances, Erik – not with this.’

‘And _I_ don’t want you exhausting yourself for no reason,’ Erik said flatly. He then snorted. ‘Besides, aren’t _I_ usually the paranoid one out of the two of us?’

‘It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you,’ Charles said dryly, before arching an eyebrow at Erik as a middle-aged woman draped in diamonds passed by them, giving them a very thorough once-over. ‘See?’ he said smugly, even as he mentally worked to brush out the woman’s memories of them from her mind. ‘Not paranoid. You may not realise this, Erik, but you have an annoying way of standing out from the crowd and being memorable even when standing still.’ He paused and then darted a glance over to Erik’s tuxedo, which had been hastily rented the day before the gala. ‘And I must say, it doesn’t help when you go around looking like that, either.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘Looking like what?’ he asked, curious.

Charles gave him a pointed look. ‘Don’t fish,’ he said reproachfully, turning back to the crowd. ‘It’s unattractive. At least, that’s what my mother used to say. Then again, she thought most things about children were unattractive.’

Erik shook his head. ‘Your mother sounds like a—’

‘Charming woman? Yes, well she’d fit perfectly in with this crowd, and that’s all one really needs to know about her, isn’t it?’

‘That and the fact that in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never willingly spoken about her in more than a sentence or two,’ Erik said dryly.

Charles shrugged. ‘She’s … irrelevant,’ he said, his expression blank.

‘Hmm,’ Erik studied him for a moment before turning back to the crowd. ‘By the way,’ he added casually. ‘You don’t look too bad, either.’ He glanced over as Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘That woman wasn’t just looking at _me_ , you know.’

Charles’s mouth pulled up into a smirk. ‘Naturally,’ he murmured, reaching up to pointedly adjust the black bow tie at his now clean-shaven throat. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Erik followed the movement, still smiling, before turning to glance idly at a corner of the room where a few murmurs of conversation were coming from. He listened for a moment and then abruptly straightened up and nudged Erik sharply with his elbow, the smile evaporating from his face. ‘Look,’ he said in a low hiss. ‘It’s Shaw.’

Erik immediately went still. He took a moment to breathe in deeply and unclench his fists, and then turned to look in the direction that Charles was indicating.

They were unable to see much at first due to the masses of people on the floor, but then the crowds parted for a brief moment and they were able to look through and see the man that they had been searching for. Their eyes alighted on him for only a handful of seconds before the crowds moved once more and Shaw was hidden from sight.

They stood in silence for a minute.

‘Should we take a closer look?’ Charles asked after a moment, his voice subdued. 

Erik looked torn. ‘Do you think you could keep his attention away from us?’

Charles bit his lip, looking uncertain. ‘Probably?’ he said. ‘I mean, I can usually, but if Shaw has his telepath around … I don’t know.’

Erik set his jaw. ‘Then I guess we will just have to find out.’

‘ _Carefully_ ,’ Charles said, his eyes boring into Erik’s. ‘Remember, Erik, we’re not making contact tonight. This is just a reconnaissance mission, that’s all.’

Erik looked at him for a moment and then nodded stiffly. ‘Understood,’ he said, although he didn’t sound happy about it. 

Charles kept his gaze on him for a moment, his eyes narrowed, before finally nodding. ‘Well then,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and see Sebastian Shaw up close.’

*****

‘… And I said “only if you have the correct export licences”.’

Charles watched with narrowed eyes as the crowd around Shaw shook with laughter over his latest anecdote. It had been like that for the last ten minutes, with Shaw regaling his hangers-on with amusing stories and working the room with the ease of a professional. Shaw had smiled and laughed even while diligently eking out donations from his guests, and within minutes he’d had them all practically eating out of his hand.

Charles was beginning to see how this man might convince a group of people to kill for him. He certainly had the charm for it.

It had at first been difficult to reconcile the man in front of him with the mutant killer who had been evading them for years. Shaw played his part very well: everything from his expensive suit to his pearly-white smile oozed style and sophistication, and Charles had no doubt that, were he to voice the truth at that very moment, no one in the room would believe him that Sebastian Shaw could ever be involved with something so crass as serial murder.

Charles knew it, though. He hadn’t been able to get any sort of a mental read on Shaw, much to his frustration – and that was something that he and Erik needed to discuss very carefully before they made their next move – but every genial smile and flash of too-white teeth was enough to cement the truth for him. Sebastian Shaw was the man that they were looking for, and he was standing right in front of them, hiding in plain sight.

‘Clever, clever man,’ Charles murmured under his breath. He allowed his eyes to slip away from Shaw and onto Erik. He and Erik had separated from each other before approaching Shaw, with each of them circling around on the periphery of the Shaw’s crowd of admirers. Charles could see Erik even now, gazing stonily at Shaw as the Mayor grinned down at a woman wearing a string of pearls around her neck as if the two of them were sharing a private joke.

_Stop glaring_ , Charles warned as he delicately took a sip of lemonade from a tall glass. _You need to blend in, Erik. I’m covering you, yes, but that doesn’t mean …_ He trailed off, not wanting to go into detail about Shaw’s apparent resistance to telepathy just yet.

Erik’s eyes flicked over to him. He seemed to frown at Charles for a moment, before the expression abruptly vanished, and Charles watched with fascination as Erik forcibly wrenched his face into a more pleasant expression.

‘… of course the Brotherhood works very hard to see that each person receives the right kind of support …’ 

Charles’s ears pricked up, turning to see Shaw in the middle of extracting yet another donation for the Brotherhood.

‘But what _sort_ of people are being supported?’ a society matron was demanding. ‘Are they addicts?’ She wrinkled her nose with distaste. ‘ _Criminals?_ ’ 

Charles watched as Shaw’s face morphed fluidly into mask of solemnity. ‘We support anyone that needs help,’ he said with near-perfect sincerity, reaching out to clasp the woman’s hand in his. ‘I understand your concern, I truly do, but we never turn away anyone in need of our support.’ He turned so that his face was angled towards the rest of the group. ‘The whole purpose of the Brotherhood is to deal with the less fortunate,’ he said with something that could almost be mistaken for earnestness. ‘We want nothing more than to help these people change … Help them _reinvent_ themselves.’

There were murmurs of approval from the group around Shaw. Charles smiled humourlessly. He knew exactly how Shaw _reinvented_ the less fortunate. He had worked the crime scenes.

Charles watched as Shaw continued to soothe the fears of those around him, his silver tongue working its magic on his followers. Charles was torn between awe and nausea. The insincerity that dripped from the man’s lips repulsed him, but at the same time a small, dark part of him was fascinated with the performance occurring in front of him. 

It was one thing to know that Shaw was a murderer; it was another thing entirely to watch him pretend that he wasn’t. 

The performance was, Charles could admit, very near flawless. He was well aware that, had he not known what he did, he would never have guessed that the man was anything but a consummate politician. And that was a fact that made Shaw all the more dangerous.

The group eventually moved on from the topic of the Brotherhood. Charles remained at his post, watching as Shaw skilfully changed the subject when it didn’t suit him, and he wasn’t the least bit surprised when the conversation ultimately ended up on the topic of the Mayor’s re-election campaign. He was impressed, however; if he hadn’t have been watching Shaw closely then he wouldn’t have known that he had manipulated the conversation at all.

‘Bastard,’ he muttered under his breath, causing an older gentleman to glare at him.

Charles smiled blandly in apology and then turned back to Shaw’s group of admirers. The Mayor was now answering questions about his future campaign, looking completely at ease in his surroundings. His smile never wavered once, nor did his charm. The Mayor, it was becoming clear, was a man who had all the answers.

Charles cocked his head, looking thoughtful. He glanced over to Erik, but Erik was focused wholly on Shaw and wasn’t paying him any attention. It didn’t matter, he decided. It wasn’t as if Charles wanted to do anything dangerous. He wasn’t even going to make contact. He just wanted to _observe_.

Humming lightly to himself, he reached out with his telepathy and crept into the mind of a young, sharply-dressed man – _a journalist_ , he noted with satisfaction – and pushed him forward.

‘Crime has fallen to an all-time low over the last ten years,’ Shaw was saying rather smugly to his crowd of on-lookers. ‘So I think it’s fair to say that I’m a safe pair of—’

‘What about the murders?’

Everyone turned to look at the young man, who was blinking dazedly, looking surprised by his own question.

There was a deafening pause. Then Shaw cleared his throat and turned a blinding smile on the man. ‘What murders?’ he asked, sounding pleasantly curious. Charles observed, detached, as Shaw’s hands slowly unclenched from where they had instinctively tightened. 

‘The recent ones.’ Charles used the moment to slip out of the young man’s mind. He had planted the idea now, and the reporter had enough brains to know where to take the line of questioning. ‘There was Worthington, and that McCoy one, and one or two others after that. Rumours are that they’re the victims of a serial killer.’

There were murmurs in the crowd and Shaw’s smile took on a rather fixed look. He inclined his head towards an aide who had suddenly popped up by his side, listening for a moment. When he turned back to the reporter, his mask was once more firmly in place. 

‘Rumours, you say?’ he said genially. ‘I somehow doubt that there have been rumours of any sort – unless _you_ yourself are trying to start them, Mr. Andrews.’ His cocked his head to the side. ‘You’re from _The Star_ , yes?’ Shaw’s smile turned mocking. ‘A true pinnacle of _journalism_ , as we all know.’

There were several chuckles and condescending laughs at that, and Charles watched as the journalist reddened, slipping back into the crowds in a bid to escape. Even as he watched, Charles saw Shaw lean again towards his aide, murmuring something in his ear while his eyes followed the departing reporter, something less than kindness skittering across his suddenly cold expression. 

All of a sudden Charles had had enough.

_I need a drink_ , he said flatly, finally catching Erik’s eye. _I think I’ve seen everything that I’m going to see tonight, and I don’t want to spend one more second in Shaw’s company longer than I have to._

Erik nodded. _I’ll see you a minute_ , he said.

Charles gave him a short nod in response and then turned to walk away. As he did so, his eyes caught on Sebastian Shaw – who was looking straight at him. Their eyes met.

Time froze.

Then Shaw’s eyes moved on, his expression unchanging, and Charles felt himself breathe again.

‘Christ,’ he muttered tightly, feeling his heart race inside his chest. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and placed his fingers against his temple.

_Meet me at the open bar, Erik_ , he said grimly. _We need to talk_.

*****

Erik gritted his teeth. ‘Did he recognise you?’ he demanded when he could speak at an acceptable volume, lifting his hand as if to grasp at Charles before forcibly dropping his arm to his side, his fist clenched. They had moved away from the overly-crowded bar, but that did not mean that they could risk drawing attention from the function-goers.

Charles was slow to answer. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I don’t think so. I’ve played the moment over in my mind a hundred times now, and there was no recognition in his eyes. He glimpsed me for less than a second, Erik. I’m sure it was nothing.’

‘Hmm,’ Erik didn’t look entirely convinced. He shook his head. ‘How did he see you anyway? I thought you were shielding us.’

‘I was,’ Charles said darkly. ‘I _am_. But apparently that doesn’t work with our esteemed Mayor.’

Erik immediately tensed. ‘Can’t you read him?’ he asked, narrowing his eyes. 

Charles shook his head. ‘No,’ he said grimly. ‘Not even a little. I thought at first that I was just off my game because there were so many people about, but – no. I can’t read him. I can’t even sense him.’

‘Like Creed?’ Erik asked immediately.

‘No,’ Charles thought hard for a moment. ‘No, with Creed I could sense a presence. With Shaw … it’s like he’s not there at all.’

Erik frowned. ‘Could his telepath be shielding him?’

Charles shrugged. ‘It’s a possibility,’ he admitted. ‘In fact, I would say it’s more than likely. The only thing is that I haven’t been able to spot them, which is more than a little disconcerting. I would like to think that I would be able to recognise a fellow telepath, if I saw them.’

‘Would they be able to do the same to you?’ Erik asked at once, his eyes scanning the crowds even as he moved closer so that his shoulder was brushing Charles’s. ‘Would they be able to tell what you are if they saw you?’

Charles bit his lip. ‘It depends if they’re stronger than me,’ he said at last. ‘Which is possible but unlikely. My shields are strong and I am quite sure that I can hold them up for the both of us even when under pressure, but I won’t really know until they’re tested.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘Let’s hope they’re not tested then,’ he said with a grim smile.

‘Agreed,’ Charles murmured, and took a sip of his drink. 

They were both silent for a moment.

‘So,’ Charles said at last. ‘That was Sebastian Shaw.’

‘That was our _murderer_ ,’ Erik immediately corrected him, his eyes narrowing.

‘That too,’ Charles agreed. He shook his head. ‘You know, he looks just the same as he did when we met him all those years ago. When he gave us our medals for the Creed case.’

Erik scowled. ‘He does look the same,’ he agreed, glaring across the hall. ‘Bastard probably has good genes.’

‘Hmmm,’ Charles frowned, his brow creasing. ‘Yes … I would say he does.’ He went quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful.

Erik took a sip of his drink. ‘The question about the murders,’ he grunted, lowering his glass. ‘That was you?’

Charles blinked at the change in subject and then smiled. ‘You could tell?’

Erik shrugged. ‘I thought I recognised your handiwork,’ he said, unable to hide a smirk.

‘I had to do something,’ Charles said, without a hint of remorse. ‘Someone needed to wipe that smug look off that bastard’s face.’

Erik’s expression darkened. ‘Well, we both saw how that turned out,’ he said grimly. ‘It didn’t wipe the smile off for long.’

‘Long enough,’ Charles countered.

‘True,’ Erik nodded. ‘But that’s only because we were watching for his reaction. I doubt any one else caught the slip at all.’

‘He isn’t someone who flusters easily, no,’ Charles agreed, sighing. ‘I’m not all that surprised by that, if I’m honest, but it’s good to have it confirmed.’ He paused. ‘It did tell us one thing, though.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘And what’s that?’

‘It tells us that Shaw is proud,’ Charles said with a grim smile. ‘He’s proud and he does not like being challenged. Did you see the way he was looking at that poor reporter from _The Star_?’ Charles shook his head. ‘I don’t think that Shaw will do anything to actively harm him, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the poor boy received a reprimand from his superiors in the morning.’ He grimaced, looking contrite. ‘Hopefully he won’t get in _too_ much trouble.’

Erik shrugged. ‘He’s a journalist,’ he said, unconcerned. ‘He probably deserves it. _The Star_ ’s a piece of shit newspaper anyway.’

‘Still,’ Charles said, though he was smiling slightly. His expression then turned solemn. ‘I didn’t leave him completely empty-handed, though,’ he said seriously. ‘I _may_ have left a few ideas circulating in his head.’

‘Oh?’ 

‘The first being that Mayor Shaw is an asshole,’ Charles said, smiling wryly as Erik snorted. ‘But, more pertinently, that he is worthy of a bit of investigation. That maybe a bit of digging wouldn’t go amiss. Secondly,’ he paused. ‘I may have left a suggestion that these past few murders are eerily reminiscent of a number of other killings that occurred over a decade ago.’

Erik’s breath came out in a hiss. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ he asked. ‘Letting a journalist get hold of this story? Drawing attention back to Creed?’

‘You said it yourself the other day,’ Charles met his eyes. ‘We’re going to need allies in this, Erik. We need to lay the groundwork for the future, for when we finish this.’

Erik looked pained. ‘ _The Star_ though, Charles?’ he grumbled. His complaint was only half-hearted, though; Charles could see him turning the idea over in his mind.

Charles shrugged. ‘Every little helps,’ he said, before straightening up and raising his empty glass. ‘And believe me, we need all the help we can get. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to head over and take full advantage of the free bar.’

Erik rolled his eyes. ‘Do you really want to get—’

Charles suddenly went stock-still, cutting Erik off mid-sentence. His spine had straightened as if he’d been electrified, and his expression was closed-off as his eyes darted sharply around the ballroom floor, looking very much on alert.

‘What?’ Erik demanded, grabbing tightly onto Charles’s arm. ‘What is it?’

‘There’s another telepath here,’ Charles muttered, pushing back into Erik’s grip even as his eyes scanned the area around him. ‘I can feel them – I can feel _her_. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, Erik, but I would say that chances are that—’

‘That she’s Shaw’s telepath,’ Erik finished grimly, his own eyes surveying the ballroom. ‘Has she noticed you at all?’

‘No,’ Charles quickly shook his head. ‘Not yet. Hopefully not at all, if my shields are strong enough. Which they ought to be.’

‘Good,’ Erik muttered. Then his grip on Charles’s arm tightened. ‘Charles.’

Charles looked up and his eyes fell on the two figures that were now entering the room. His breath caught.

‘Charles, is it her?’ Erik asked urgently, his eyes fixed to the woman in white who was now floating into the room, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed and her smile thin and glacial. ‘The woman … _the woman in white_. Is that her? The woman who was seen in the Drake case – is that her? _She’s_ the telepath?’

Charles didn’t answer. His eyes were not fixed on the woman; they were focused on her companion.

‘Erik,’ he breathed. ‘Erik, are you seeing this?’

He glanced over at Erik when he felt him frown, and then, realising that Erik seemed to be affected by the glamour the woman was forcing on everyone else in the ballroom, he quickly strengthened the shields around Erik’s mind. He watched as Erik blinked as his mind adjusted, and he knew the moment that Erik finally saw what he had, as Erik’s spine abruptly straightened and his fingers dug into Charles’s arm.

‘Charles,’ he hissed, ‘Is that …’

‘A mutant,’ Charles confirmed grimly, watching as the woman in white linked arms with a red skinned man in a dark suit and pointed goatee beard. Together, he and the blonde woman looked like nothing more than an angel and a devil come to life. ‘But it’s more than that.’ When Erik turned to look at him, Charles gave him a grim smile. ‘Does he remind you of anyone, Erik? Or rather, any _thing_?’

Erik was silent for only a moment. Then: ‘Toynbee,’ he said. ‘The Mortimer Toynbee case. The drawing.’

‘The drawing,’ Charles agreed, his tone bleak. ‘The devil who took Mortimer Toynbee.’

Erik was silent for a moment. ‘What do you think?’ he asked, his voice admirably even. ‘Some sort of teleportation mutation?’

‘I’d stake my life on it,’ Charles said. ‘I can’t read him so well – not without digging further, and it’s much too risky to try it right now – but I’m quite sure that that’s what his mutation is.’

‘Fuck,’ Erik muttered under his breath. ‘A telepath _and_ a teleporter. Just how many mutants are involved in this?’

‘I don’t know,’ Charles said, watching as the woman in white threw back her head and let out a laugh. ‘But I promise you, Erik – we are going to find out.’

*****

They returned to Erik’s building later that night, feeling drained. Neither of them said anything but, as if they’d agreed upon it, they did not make their way to bed but instead went straight to Erik’s hidden room, and came to a stop in front of the wall with the Toynbee drawing and the witness report on the white woman pinned to it.

‘So,’ Erik said, looking at the wall. ‘We now know who our White Woman and Red Devil are.’

‘We do,’ Charles agreed. He waited as Erik handed him a black marker from the table and then leant forward and wrote underneath the photograph of the woman, _Emma Frost_ , and under the child’s drawing of the devil, _Mr. Azazel ??_

Finding out the woman’s name had been easy enough; several attendees at the ball had thrown her glances of mixed admiration and envy as she had walked past, alternatively on Shaw’s arm or on that of the mysterious Mr. Azazel, whom no one seemed to know very much about at all.

‘Why,’ Charles said slowly, thoughtfully, still gazing at the evidence wall. ‘The question that plagues me most about this is _why_.’

Erik frowned. ‘Why what?’

‘Why mutants,’ Charles answered. ‘From the start this has always been about mutants. Mutants were the victims. Until Creed, I believed that the perpetrators were humans who had stumbled onto our secret due to an exposure to people with physical mutations, but—’

‘But then Creed turned out to be a mutant and we found out that mutants with physical manifestations were not the only ones who were being murdered,’ Erik finished for him.

‘Exactly,’ Charles nodded. ‘With Creed we had to change the motive. Hatred and intolerance instead became mental sickness – a twisted fascination and fetishism of physical mutations. And perhaps we were not wrong to think that – Creed certainly dealt with mutants with physical differences. Salvadore, Munoz, Toynbee – those were all his doing … We just didn’t realise that he was only one small part of this terrible, horrifying enterprise.’

‘And when we did realise it, we also found that there was more to the motive behind the killings than mere emotional disturbance,’ Erik continued, his eyes fixed to Charles’s. ‘There is logic there – and calculation. There’s a purpose here, Charles. We’re just not seeing it.’

‘And again we come back to the _why_ ,’ Charles murmured, his brow creased. ‘ _Why_ is this happening? Why is Shaw doing this? Why are they killing mutants in this fashion? And – perhaps most curiously – why are there other mutants helping Shaw do this to us?’

‘I think we know why Creed was doing it,’ Erik grunted.

‘Yes well,’ Charles shook his head. ‘Creed is a very different creature to the two we saw last night. He was in it for the blood. Those two are in it for something very different.’

‘Maybe not,’ Erik shrugged. ‘Creed was in it for the blood, yes, but above all he liked the power that killing brought him. Perhaps those other two aren’t so different.’

‘But to kill other mutants?’ Charles looked pained at the idea. ‘Would they really agree to do something like that against their own kind? I could believe those levels of sadism in Creed, but the two we saw at the gala? Do you truly think that could be their sole motive?’

‘I wouldn’t put anything past anyone at this point,’ Erik said grimly, but he looked thoughtful. ‘Do you think Shaw has something on them? That he’s somehow forcing them to do these things to other mutants?’

‘A telepath and a teleporter,’ Charles shook his head. ‘I don’t know, I don’t see how he could do anything to control either one of them. Not unless—’ He paused abruptly.

Erik glanced over and saw his expression. ‘What?’ he said immediately. ‘What is it?’

Charles shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Tell me,’ Erik insisted.

‘It’s nothing important,’ Charles said with a shrug. ‘I just had a thought.’

‘Some of those thoughts have cracked homicide cases wide open for us,’ Erik said dryly. ‘ _Tell me_ , Charles.’

Charles bit his lip. ‘It’s just …’ he began. ‘When you broke into Shaw’s house. You said before that you found strange inscriptions on some of his books …’

‘Yes?’ Erik blinked, confused by the sudden change to the subject.

‘I don’t suppose you could remember any of those names, do you?’

Erik gave Charles a sharp look. ‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘It’s a stab in the dark,’ Charles admitted. ‘But I would like to check something.’ 

Erik shrugged and, turning to a nearby pad of paper, slowly wrote down a list of three names on it. He then tore the list off the pad and gave it to Charles, who moved over to the computer on the desk and began to type words into the open search box.

The first two names didn’t bring up anything when Charles searched for them. Undeterred, he then typed the last name into the search box: _Klaus Schmidt_.

At first there was nothing. Then Charles clicked a link and they both sucked in a breath.

‘Klaus Schmidt,’ Charles breathed, his eyes fixed to the computer screen as Erik stared in disbelief. ‘A German scientist … from 1940’s Germany.’

‘ _Nazi_ Germany,’ Erik rasped, his fists clenched at his sides. ‘And Charles – his face—’

‘I know.’ Charles’s tone was grim. ‘It’s Shaw.’

‘But are we _sure_?’ Erik asked urgently. ‘Are we sure it’s not just a – a relative? Someone who looks like him?’

Charles’s eyes raked down the black and white photograph in front of him. ‘I’m certain of it,’ he said. ‘It makes sense. It makes a _lot_ of sense. The reason why those mutants are following Shaw isn’t because he has something on them, it’s because—’

‘Shaw is a mutant too,’ Erik finished for him, shaking his head. ‘Damn it, Charles. It’s one thing for us to be hunting a human mayor who has killed our kind, but for the killer to also be a mutant? And, from what I can see, practically immortal?’ He pointed to the old photograph on the computer screen. ‘This changes things, Charles. It changes _everything_.’

‘I know,’ Charles said. ‘I know.’

Erik met his gaze. Then he turned back to the computer screen. ‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he said, and closed his eyes.

*****

It was past midday when the two of them finally reconvened in the hidden room of Erik’s apartment. Erik was already there when Charles entered, staring silently at the note-covered walls. It was several minutes before the silence was broken.

‘We need to talk about this, Charles.’

Charles raised his head from his steaming cup of coffee and turned it towards Erik. ‘Talk about what?’ he asked, blinking slowly.

Erik turned to him and met his eyes. ‘About what we’re going to do about Shaw,’ he said quietly. ‘About what happens when we finally get him.’

Charles frowned. ‘Well … we’re going to arrest him, of course,’ he said slowly.

Erik’s face was expressionless. ‘We are?’

Charles blinked. ‘Of course,’ he said, eyeing Erik with surprise. ‘What else did you think we would do with him?’

Erik held his gaze. ‘Well,’ he said quietly, his tone almost casual. ‘I thought that we were going to kill him.’

Charles stared. ‘… You can’t be serious,’ he said flatly.

‘Why not?’ Erik immediately demanded, his muscles tensing. ‘We did it with Creed, didn’t we?’

‘That’s completely different,’ Charles hissed. ‘Our lives were at risk, Erik – there was no other way!’

‘And do you honestly think that there aren’t lives at risk now with Shaw free?’ Erik growled. ‘Don’t you think that mutants will be safer with Shaw gone?’

‘Of course they will!’ Charles said, sounding frustrated. ‘Which is why incarceration is our best option!’

Erik shook his head. ‘That won’t work, Charles,’ he said grimly. ‘Think about it. Even if you eliminate any possibly interference from Frost and Azazel from the equation, this is still a man who managed to keep two mutants of presumably incredible power under his thumb for who knows how many years. He obviously has some power of his own that dwarfs even theirs, and – from that picture of Schmidt – we may have to assume that this power is one of immortality.’

‘So?’

‘So what happens in ten years? Or twenty? Or fifty? When Shaw serves his time and is let out again? He’ll go back to committing the same atrocities that he’s doing now, Charles. It’ll all happen exactly as it’s happening now – only next time _we_ won’t be around to stop him.’

‘But _killing_ him, Erik!’

Erik bit back a curse. ‘Damn it, Charles,’ he said, incensed. ‘Think about Creed! There’s a reason why we killed him! He was dangerous and uncontrollable and it was the _only way that we could stop him_. This is the exact same situation all over again and it needs the _exact same_ solution!’

Charles’s expression was cold. ‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ he said icily, turning away and glaring at the wall. ‘I can’t condone murder, Erik.’

‘You never seemed to be particularly cut up over Creed’s death, from what I recall,’ Erik sneered, folding his arms over his chest.

Charles shook his head, his expression tight. ‘That was different,’ he said firmly. ‘That was a spur-of-the-moment decision that we made because we didn’t have any other choice at the time. Now, though, we _have_ the luxury of time. We have the opportunity to come up with alternatives, and – listen to me, Erik – we are going to _take_ it.’

Erik glared at him.

Charles closed his eyes. ‘I will not be party to pre-meditated murder, Erik,’ he said quietly. ‘I have done a lot of things in my time – and I admit freely that my morals are not as white and rigid as I would like everyone to believe. But I draw the line at planning a murder. I can’t do it, Erik. I _won’t_ do it.’

He met Erik’s eyes, and for one long moment they just stared at each other. Then Charles turned and walked out of the room, leaving Erik standing in rigid silence behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

**POLICE BAFFLED BY HOMELESS HOMICIDE  
**

A man was found murdered and mutilated in an abandoned warehouse last night. The homeless man, known simply as “Joe” by his friends, was stabbed once through the chest by an unknown implement which penetrated his heart. He is thought to have died instantly. Rather disturbingly, his eyeballs appear to have been removed from their sockets shortly after his murder, and are still yet to be found. Residents of the area are reported to be appalled by the attack, which currently appears to have been entirely unprovoked and without motive.  
  
“It is shocking to think that such a thing could happen on our streets,” says Helen Matthews, 54. “I can’t stop thinking about that poor, poor man. These vile people must be brought to justice as soon as possible.” Police have yet to release a statement regarding the murder, although an insider reports that officers are at a loss about the removal of the victim’s eyes. “It’s absolutely mad,” a source tells us. “There’s a lot of concern that there is a pattern developing with the last few cases we’ve seen, and there has even been some muttering about the Sabretooth case from all those years ago.”  
  
The Sabretooth killer, Victor Creed, was responsible for some of the most horrific and brutal murders in the country. He was killed in a police shootout well over a decade ago, and there is currently no evidence of a link between the two cases.  
  
---  
  
*****

‘You’ve seen it then?’

Charles looked up slowly from the newspaper, his eyes falling on Erik, who was slouching against the door frame. He eyed him for a minute and then dipped his head in a sharp nod. ‘There’s been another one,’ he said. He sounded exhausted.

Erik watched him, his gaze unwavering. ‘We need to stop him Charles,’ he said quietly. ‘We need to prevent him from doing this to anyone ever again.’

‘I know.’ Charles rubbed tiredly at his eyes. ‘But I still can’t condone murder, Erik. I just can’t.’

‘Then what would you suggest?’ Erik’s tone was calm; he sounded curious now, rather than simply belligerent.

Charles did not answer immediately. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all night,’ he said at last, speaking slowly. ‘And the conclusion I have come to is that you’re right.’ He met Erik’s eyes. ‘We can’t simply place Shaw in a jail and expect to be done with it. If we’re right about him, then all we are doing is delaying the inevitable.’

‘So what’s the solution?’ Erik asked, coming closer so that he was standing next to Charles’s seat, looking intent.

Charles took a deep breath. ‘ _I_ am,’ he said. ‘We take out the Frost woman, we find Shaw, we subdue him, and then I go into his head and remove everything – the murders, his plans, his powers. I take it all. I cut it all out so that no one will be able to recreate it for him, even if he does find another telepath afterwards. And then we arrest him.’

Erik was watching him with an unreadable expression. ‘You can do that?’ he asked neutrally. ‘Remove his memories completely? Remove his _powers_?’

Charles’s expression turned distant. ‘I can,’ he said, his tone grim. ‘I _have_.’

Erik went still. ‘When?’ He demanded. ‘From whom?’

‘After I left,’ Charles said shortly. ‘At Oxford. I was … experimenting. With a great many things.’

Erik’s eyebrows went up. ‘And?’

‘And,’ Charles said evenly, ‘I found that I was able to excise memories from a person’s mind.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s actually a good deal simpler than burying a memory. The real trick is to make the cut seamless.’

‘Good to know,’ Erik said dryly. ‘And what about powers? Were you able to cut them out as well?’

Charles paused. ‘Well – not exactly,’ he said cautiously. ‘I wasn’t trying to cut them out entirely, you see – I was only trying to stop them temporarily.’

‘Why?’

Charles sighed. ‘Does it matter?’

‘ _Why?_ ’ Erik asked again, his expression immovable. 

Charles’s shoulders slumped. ‘There was a girl,’ he answered reluctantly. ‘Anna-Marie. She was desperate and she asked, and so I suppressed her powers for her. Only for a short while, of course – a week, or so. And then I gave them back to her.’

Erik’s arms were folded across his chest. ‘And then …?’ he asked.

‘And then nothing.’ Charles shrugged. ‘She got her powers back and she never asked me to remove them again.’

‘I see.’ Erik relaxed slightly, looking thoughtful. ‘So do you think that you would be able to remove someone’s powers altogether? Not just temporarily?’

Charles hesitated for a moment before nodding. ‘Theoretically, yes,’ he said carefully. ‘I can’t say if I could in practice but in theory – yes, I think that I could.’

Erik was silent for a few minutes. Then let out a long, straggling breath and looked up at Charles and nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said, resolve clear in his eyes. ‘Okay then. That’s how we’ll do it.’

Charles closed his eyes briefly, the relief visible on his face. Then he straightened and, meeting Erik’s gaze, returned the nod. ‘That’s how we’ll do it,’ he repeated firmly. ‘It’s settled.’

Erik’s smile was thin and razor-sharp. ‘Let’s just hope that we manage to get close enough to make it happen.’

Charles’s eyes drifted to the wall where there was a pinned photo from the gala of Shaw laughing with his two mutant cronies. ‘Oh don’t worry,’ he said, his eyes zeroing in on the figure of the icy blonde woman in white. ‘We will.’

*****

Erik and Charles sat outside the Frost mansion, waiting.

Tracking down Emma Frost was surprisingly difficult, considering that she was a well-known socialite and the right hand woman of the Mayor. Very few people seemed to know how to reach her, and no one at all seemed to know where she lived. The universal ignorance was doubtless aided by Frost’s telepathic ability, and she had done a very good job of it; not even Charles was able to find out anything more than a few superficial details about her. 

In the end, they were forced to resort to regular methods of investigation. Following Frost was risky, but Charles and Erik decided that it was worth it. The next seven days thus saw them staking out the Mayor’s offices, the only place that they knew for sure that Emma Frost frequented. 

‘It’s not like we’re not used to stakeouts,’ Erik had said dryly, when faced with Charles’s disgruntled expression.

‘No,’ Charles agreed. ‘We just seem to be doing more of it now than we did as police officers.’

Emma Frost appeared on the seventh day of their watch, climbing out of a gleaming sports car, nodding briefly to the security guards, and slipping easily through the doors into the mayoral offices. 

‘We’re on,’ Erik said quietly, straightening up in his seat.

Charles nodded. ‘She’s on her way to a meeting with Shaw,’ he said, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Erik glanced at him. ‘You read her?’ he asked with a frown.

Charles shook his head. ‘Too risky,’ he said. He jerked his head towards the building. ‘The receptionist just read it in her logbook.’

‘Hmm,’ Erik considered this. ‘Any idea how long they’ll be?’

Charles shrugged. ‘Not a clue,’ he said.

They ended up waiting for almost two hours. Charles had attempted to find out what was going on inside the Mayor’s office, but he quickly found that there was no point in trying; both Shaw’s and Frost’s minds were shielded, and no one else who was currently in the building seemed to know anything that was worth knowing. 

It was evening by the time Frost eventually exited the building. Erik and Charles waited for her to step into her sleek silver sports car and drive off before trailing after her in their own dark, non-descript vehicle. Erik’s powers allowed him to register the feel of the car, enabling them to keep a good distance away from Frost and well out of sight of her rear-view mirror, while Charles concentrated on keeping the two of them cloaked from her telepathy.

The drive was, luckily, not a long one. They arrived at Frost’s town house barely ten minutes after setting off, and they remained in their vehicle, watching as she slipped out of the car and strode over to her door. They waited, tense, until she had gone inside, and then continued to wait some more when another car pulled up and a man got out and headed up the steps, pausing only briefly at the door before being let in.

‘The Commissioner,’ Erik muttered in a low voice, his eyes trained unblinkingly on the doorway. ‘One of Shaw’s chief supporters, incidentally.’

‘And an admirer of Miss Frost’s it appears,’ Charles murmured, his eyes fixed on the uppermost window of the house.

Erik’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

It was dark when the Commissioner finally took his leave of Miss Frost, his shirt slightly more creased on the way out than it had been when he had arrived. Erik eyes lingered coolly on his rumpled clothes before turning to Charles, who was slumped back in his seat and blinking his eyes slowly, looking around with an air of drowsiness. 

‘Sleep well?’ Erik asked dryly.

Charles turned a bleary eye to look at him before slowly raising a careless shoulder. ‘You know I don’t sleep,’ he murmured reproachfully even as he began to work out the crick in his neck.

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh?’ he asked, following the motion of the flexing tendons.

‘No,’ Charles shrugged, grimacing at the resulting click when he moved his neck to the right. ‘I just dream.’

Erik paused. Then he snorted. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘if I heard that from anyone but a telepath …’ He shook his head, his smile wry. His eyes then went back to the house and his expression became more serious. ‘It’s good that you’re awake,’ he said in a low voice. ‘The Commissioner just left and Frost is by herself. We should prepare to go in.’

Charles nodded. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I saw.’ He watched the house thoughtfully. ‘We should wait for a few minutes before we go inside.’

‘You’ll say when?’ Erik asked.

‘I will,’ Charles nodded. 

Ten minutes passed in complete silence. Then Charles suddenly raised his head. He paused for a moment, listening, and then took a deep breath and turned to Erik. 

‘Okay,’ he said grimly, pulling up the zip of his coat and reaching for the door. ‘Let’s go in.’

*****

In the end, subduing Miss Frost was easier than they had anticipated. For one, Frost put up only a very half-hearted resistance.

‘It was only a matter of time, you see,’ she said with an elegant shrug, looking supremely unconcerned even as the metal bars of her bed’s headboard curled tightly around her wrists. ‘It’s been going on for so long. In truth, I’m surprised you didn’t get here sooner.’

‘You admit it then?’ Erik demanded. His face was twisted with barely suppressed anger. ‘You admit to the murder and torture of innocent people? Of _mutants_?’

Emma raised an eyebrow. ‘I do not argue that I wasn’t complicit,’ she said coolly. ‘And I have done things that may be considered morally repugnant, yes – but I will have you know that I never laid a finger on any of those people and that I never condoned the methods that were used against them.’

‘You may not have condoned the methods,’ Charles said quietly, his voice carrying from where he was standing against the wall, his face shadowed. ‘But you certainly aided in the execution of them.’ He stepped forward, his eyes suddenly hard and icy cold. ‘And you may say what you like, Miss Frost, but I have not a single doubt in my mind that you not were not only part of the whole rotten business, but that you were damn well instrumental in covering it up.’

Emma Frost’s expression flickered briefly, but the cool, unfazed mask returned before the expression could be deciphered. ‘I was,’ she said, with almost no discernable hesitation. She shrugged. ‘But then a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.’ Her expression hardened. ‘I may not have liked what I was doing, but I can assure you that I infinitely preferred it to being the one lying there strapped to an operating table. I can pull off many styles, gentleman, but _death_ isn’t one of them.’

‘Operating table,’ Erik repeated, seizing on Emma’s words. He shared a quick glance with Charles. ‘Shaw is operating on these people?’

Emma shrugged. ‘Only some,’ she said, sounding bored. ‘The ones that refuse him. He actually enjoys it.’ Here her lip curled with unfeigned disgust. ‘Really, it was almost kinder when that animal Creed was involved with things. At least then it would all be over more quickly. Sebastian … Sebastian enjoys drawing things out.’

‘Wait,’ Charles said sharply, stepping forward. ‘“Refuse him”. You said he only kills the ones that _refuse him_. Refuse him _what_ , exactly?’

Emma smirked. ‘Cut me loose and I will tell you,’ she said slyly.

Erik glared at her. ‘That’s not happening,’ he said, his teeth gritted. ‘So you can stop asking.’

Emma raised a cool eyebrow and then turned to Charles. ‘ _You_ look sensible, sugar,’ she said, her lip curling provocatively. ‘How about it?’

Charles shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not, Miss Frost,’ he said, impeccably polite. ‘Regrettably, we still require your company.’

‘What you require,’ Emma corrected him coolly, ‘is my _cooperation_. Which, as I am sure you will understand, you will not get. At least – not without something in return.’ Her eyes hardened. ‘ _Quid pro quo_ , gentlemen. That’s all I want.’

Charles sighed. ‘You are under the impression that this is a negotiation, Miss Frost,’ he said grimly. ‘I am sorry to have to tell you that this is anything but.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Emma challenged. ‘The way I see it, I have something you want, and you have something that I want – in this case, my freedom. I don’t see why we can’t just sit down and talk like civilised people.’ She cast a glance at Erik and her lip curled. ‘Well – as civilised as we can manage, anyway.’

‘I think we can all manage to be appropriately civil,’ Charles cut in smoothly, stepping between her and Erik. ‘But I am afraid that you appear to be ignoring a much more suitable solution, Miss Frost. One that would completely eliminate the need for negotiation on our part.’

Emma’s eyes narrowed. ‘With good reason,’ she said, her tone clipped. ‘Because, as far as I am concerned, that is simply not an option.’

‘For you, maybe.’

‘For _both_ of us,’ Emma said emphatically, meeting Charles’s eyes and holding his gaze. ‘I may not be able to overpower you, Mr. Xavier—’ both Erik and Charles were well aware that the use of his name was deliberate ‘—but I can damn well keep my mind protected if I have to. Even from you.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Erik sneered.

Emma ignored him, keeping her eyes fixed on Charles. ‘I suppose you may be able break in, if you really tried,’ she mused. ‘But in all likelihood the force necessary to do so would break my mind and effectively kill me. Now _this_ one,’ here she jerked her head at Erik, who scowled, ‘May not be so cut up about that, but _you_ , sugar – I don’t think you would enjoy that one little bit.’

Charles didn’t say anything.

‘Besides,’ Emma continued. ‘I’m no good to you dead, am I? If I go, then all the information I have goes along with me. And believe me,’ her lips curved up dangerously, ‘the information I have is _definitely_ worth hearing.’

‘According to you,’ Erik said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Emma smiled sweetly at him. ‘And to you too, sugar. You wouldn’t be here otherwise, would you?’ 

Erik stared at her for a moment. Then he turned to Charles. ‘We don’t negotiate,’ he said firmly. He turned back to look at Emma. ‘Do what you need to, Charles. She’ll give in before the end. She won’t let it get too far.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Emma broke in, narrowing her eyes. ‘Do you want to take that risk?’

‘Do you?’ Erik shot back.

Emma shrugged. ‘Rather that than be thrown in jail,’ she said simply.

Charles watched her for a moment, still silent. Then he sighed. ‘Alright,’ he said quietly.

Erik jerked beside him. ‘What?’ he hissed. ‘Charles—’

‘She won’t be entirely free,’ Charles interrupted, looking Emma straight in the eye. ‘She will be … restrained.’

Emma immediately looked suspicious. ‘How do you mean?’ she asked, sounding wary.

Charles met her eyes. Emma blinked once, and then relaxed minutely, letting him in. Erik watched narrowly as they communicated telepathically, feeling restless and slightly resentful at being left out.

Emma’s head was cocked to the side, and she listened in silence, before she suddenly jerked back and glared at Charles, looking mutinous. 

‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘Out of the question.’

‘It could be a lot worse,’ Charles reminded her out loud, his tone impassive. ‘I could take your powers from you instead.’

Emma continued to glare at him.

Charles sighed. ‘It’s the only real option you have,’ he said, emotion returning to his voice. ‘Whatever happens, Miss Frost, you will not be leaving here without some form of restraint. Whether that means losing your powers or your freedom … well, that remains entirely up to you.’

Still Emma hesitated. Her face, usually inexpressive, now held an air of vulnerability to it. At last she sighed. ‘Fine,’ she snapped, straightening her shoulders with resolve and glaring at the floor. ‘You win. I’ll do it. But I warn you, Xavier, any unwarranted interference—’

‘You have my word,’ Charles said quietly. ‘Only ever if you step out of line.’

‘We both have a very different idea of what that means,’ Emma grumbled, but she looked slightly mollified. ‘Very well,’ she pulled briefly at her restraints. ‘We have an agreement. Now let me up and we’ll talk.’ At Erik’s expression she scowled. ‘I am _not_ going to do this while trussed up like a pig. Either you release me or we are done.’

Erik turned to Charles and raised an eyebrow. 

Charles sighed. _Trust me, my friend_ , he said gently. _This is for the best. She won’t cause us any more trouble, I promise you._

Erik’s frown deepened. _You had better be sure of this, Charles,_ he warned, even as he turned and raised his arm towards Emma. _Because any further blood spilled by her after today will be on your hands._ He splayed his fingers and the bindings around Emma’s arms fell slack.

Charles watched in silence as Emma slithered out of them, rubbing her wrists as she did. _I know,_ he said, long after Erik had given up on receiving a response. _Believe me, Erik, I know._

*****

Emma’s testimony was difficult.

She herself was a model informant; after she had received Charles’s promise she had been as good as her word and had started revealing everything she knew about Shaw and his operation. 

The difficulty came in listening to it.

‘So Shaw wants to – what – build an _army_?’ Erik shook his head disbelievingly. ‘An army of mutants. To – what? – take over the world?’ His attempt at sarcasm fell flat when Emma raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Apparently so,’ she said, glancing down at her nails as if bored. ‘It sounds a lot more achievable when he says it, though. He _is_ very charismatic, you see.’

‘We know,’ Erik said darkly. He then shook his head. ‘I don’t understand. How can he build an army of mutants if he keeps on _slaughtering_ them?’

Emma favoured him with another bland look. ‘He doesn’t slaughter _everyone_ , sugar,’ she said coolly, before giving a little shrug. ‘Just the ones that refuse to join him.’

Erik and Charles exchanged a look. ‘So – the killings …’ Charles began.

‘Excessive,’ Emma said, a flicker of disapproval crossing her face. ‘But Sebastian does enjoy his theatrics.’

‘And the mutilations?’ Erik demanded. 

‘I’m sure you’ve guessed that already,’ Emma said with a lift of her shoulders. ‘He couldn’t exactly leave a body with blue fur around for the police to poke at. Mutants need to stay in the shadows, after all.’

‘Until they take over the world,’ Erik sneered.

‘Until we take over the world,’ Emma repeated, nodding. 

‘So we were right then,’ Charles mused, ignoring her use of the plural. ‘The mutilations were only done to hide visible mutations from the police … from the public. But other mutants – mutants with invisible mutations – they were also killed.’

Emma nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But they were never linked to the others. Well,’ she cast them a wry glance. ‘Not before you two anyway. Some of them were never counted as murders at all.’

‘No doubt thanks to your influence,’ Charles said quietly.

Emma had the grace to look discomfited. ‘I won’t lie and say that I was coerced,’ she said at last, tossing her head. ‘Because I joined Shaw of my own free will. I will say, however, that I had no idea of what I was getting into at the time, and then later …’ she sighed and shook her head. ‘All I can say is that Sebastian Shaw is a hard man to refuse.’

‘Was he really that charming?’ Erik asked snidely.

Emma gave him a look.

‘You were afraid of him,’ Charles murmured, causing Erik to look at him in surprise. ‘You _are_ afraid of him … of what he can do …’

Emma’s lips had thinned. ‘The Black King is a dangerous man,’ she said at last, the name causing both Erik and Charles to sit up straight. ‘More than you can possibly imagine. Dangerous, even for a telepath.’ She met Charles’s eyes. ‘I would remember that, if I were you.’

Erik’s eyes narrowed, but Charles met Emma’s gaze with steadiness. ‘I will,’ he said gravely. ‘I will.’

*****

The interrogation went on for a long time. Emma recounted each and every victim that she recalled, and Charles and Erik’s faces grew steadily grimmer with each name that she spoke. A lot of what she said – the Brotherhood Initiative, the involvement of Azazel the teleporter, the victims, Creed – had merely confirmed what they had already known, but there was still much that they hadn’t yet put together, and many of the names she revealed to them hadn’t been on their list at all.

‘I wasn’t involved with all of it, of course,’ she said at one point. ‘I was mostly called in for any clean-up jobs that were necessary – I preferred it that way, really. I was only ever called in as backup if the mutant in question was particularly … feisty. At least,’ her tone turned wry, ‘that’s what Sebastian called it. He always did enjoy the feisty ones.’

The interview continued on, with the atmosphere in the room becoming increasingly fraught. It was only when Emma mentioned an incident that she had been forced to clean up inside a police jail cell that Charles came to a pause.

‘Jordan,’ he said, his tone neutral. ‘Maxwell Jordan – is that the man you are talking about?’

Beside him, Erik went still.

Emma blinked at him in vague surprise. Then she grimaced. ‘Ah,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Of course, you were requisitioned for that interrogation. Yes, I was talking about Jordan. That little rat.’ Her lips twisted. ‘You know, he was initially one of us – one of Shaw’s, I mean – but then he went and got caught and since he was never very good at keeping his mouth shut, Sebastian began to worry that he would start talking. He told me to take care of it, so I did.’ She paused. ‘Now that I think about it, I suppose I _may_ have used a bit more force than was actually necessary …’ 

‘A _bit_?’ Erik interrupted sharply. ‘You broke his mind!’

‘Yes,’ Emma sighed. ‘But to be fair, it wasn’t a terribly brilliant mind to begin with.’ 

‘I would advise you not to say anything that may cause me undue alarm whilst we are still speaking, Miss Frost,’ Charles said calmly before Erik could hiss out a response. ‘There is still time for me to change my mind about our deal, after all.’

Emma turned a poisonous glare on Charles. Then, after a moment, she sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said reluctantly. ‘And to be fair, the only reason I did what I did to Jordan is because Sebastian ordered me to do it. I would much rather have left that weasel to rot in jail where he belongs, but Sebastian is very … _particular_ about his orders being carried out just the way he asks them to be.’

‘I’m sure,’ Charles said, watching her thoughtfully.

Emma met his eyes. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No you’re not. Not yet. But you will be.’

*****

By the time she was finished, they were all three of them exhausted. Even Emma, unflappable as she was, looked tired by the end of it all.

‘That’s it,’ she said with a sigh. ‘That’s all that I know. I can’t tell you any more.’

Charles and Erik exchanged a glance. 

‘There’s one more thing,’ Charles said after a beat. ‘One more name. One I didn’t hear you say.’ 

Emma’s eyes narrowed. ‘I told you everything I know,’ she said dangerously.

‘Not entirely,’ Charles murmured. He fixed his eyes on her. ‘ _Genosha_ ,’ he said quietly. ‘What can you tell me about Genosha?’

Emma stared at him. ‘How do you know that name?’ she demanded.

Erik and Charles glanced at each other. ‘We kept seeing it,’ Charles said quietly. ‘Everywhere we looked. Wherever we saw the name The Black King, we saw Genosha. What is it, Miss Frost? What does it mean?’

Emma closed her eyes. She looked tired. ‘Genosha,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Always Genosha. He always used to speak about it … he made us believe in it.’ She opened her eyes, meeting Charles and Erik’s gaze. ‘It was his Eden,’ she said quietly. ‘The Eden that he would create. A world of mutants.’

‘A world of mutants,’ Erik repeated. His voice was even but there was something in his tone that caused Charles to look over at him. ‘The Promised Land.’

‘Precisely,’ Emma nodded. ‘It became a religion, in a way. He _made_ it our religion. He painted a very vivid picture of what such a future would look like … he said all the right things. Freedom for mutants, somewhere where we could belong, a place where we could be ourselves with no fear of hatred or bigotry … You can imagine that it was more than a little compelling for our kind, especially for those who had been alone and shunned for so very long.’

‘I can imagine,’ Charles said, his tone deceptively light. ‘I have no doubt that it would have been very attractive to some. But somehow I don’t think that Shaw’s methods were equally appealing.’

Emma smiled thinly. ‘Only if you find the idea of eradicating the entire non-mutant population an unattractive prospect,’ she said, watching as Charles’s expression darkened. ‘Which, as you can imagine, a great many people did.’

‘Shaw didn’t respond kindly to this, I take it.’

Emma sighed. ‘The Black King is very true to his name,’ she said wryly. ‘He only sees things in black and white. Either you are with him – unquestioning, unwavering, _loyal_ – or you are against him.’

‘I’m guessing those people didn’t last very long,’ Erik said, folding his arms over his chest.

Emma raised an eyebrow. ‘Why don’t you ask Munoz? Or Drake, or Worthington?’ She sighed. ‘A lot of these people had human friends and families. Even those that didn’t – the ones drawn in by the Brotherhood Initiative, lost, alone and friendless – even they refused once they found out what Shaw was planning for the human race. They really ought to have been more worried about what Shaw was planning for _them_.’ She paused. ‘I’ve often wondered, you know … if they had known what Shaw would do to them – what _Creed_ would do to them – would they have changed their tune? If it was their morals or their life … which would they have sacrificed?’

‘A person’s morals aren’t so easily flexible,’ Erik said harshly, gritting his teeth. His hands were clenched tightly into fists, his knuckles white.

Emma raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’ she asked. ‘Mine were. I knew what would happen if I refused. So I adapted to stay alive.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s what I’m doing now.’ 

‘Tell us more about Genosha,’ Charles said before Erik could respond. ‘What else can you tell us about it?’

Emma shrugged. ‘Not much,’ she said. ‘Only that it is a powerful recruitment tool. There are many people who like the idea of a world where mutants are at the top of the food chain, and Shaw knows exactly how to play into these desires. It’s how he starts off the whole recruitment pitch – it’s how he reels them in. It’s only later that they all figure out just how Shaw intends to make it happen.’

‘And how is that, exactly?’ Erik asked, narrowing his eyes at her. ‘You’ve told us what he wants, but you haven’t gone into a lot of detail on _how_ he plans to get there.’

Emma sniffed, looking slightly put-upon. ‘If that’s what you think then you haven’t been listening,’ she said.

‘It all rests on Shaw building an army,’ Charles said quietly. ‘Mutants versus the humans, a war between the two. That’s what this is all about, Erik. That’s what he’s recruiting for.’

‘Exactly,’ Emma nodded. ‘And like I said before – you’re either with him or against him. He can’t afford to have mutants working with the humans against him, so they have to go. Which is where the supposed serial killing comes into play.’

‘He can’t have all that many recruits if he keeps killing half of them!’ Erik muttered, looking unconvinced.

Emma gave him a dry look. ‘Shaw has been around for a very long time,’ she said quietly. ‘Longer than you can imagine. He’s been planning this for almost as long … or do you think that it’s a coincidence that he’s now the Mayor of this stupid town? That he has such good friends in high places?’ She paused. ‘Do you honestly think that his political aspirations _stop_ at being just Mayor?’

Erik glanced over at Charles, whose jaw had tightened, before turning back to Emma. ‘Why here though?’ he asked, his voice level. ‘Why not a bigger city? Out of all the places he could have chosen – why here?’

Emma sighed. ‘He likes it here, apparently,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I can’t understand it myself, but there we are.’

‘Less scrutiny,’ Charles said quietly, answering for her. ‘More autocracy. There’s a bigger concentration of power here. In a bigger city there would be more checks and balances in place, but here Shaw can do pretty much what he likes. He can use the town as a – as a petri dish of sorts … experiment with us before escalating on a bigger platform.’

‘That too,’ Emma nodded, giving Charles a sly glance.

‘It would never work,’ Erik said flatly, shaking his head. ‘Not on such a large scale. Not with mutants who aren’t the lonely and desperate victims that he preys upon.’

‘There is more loneliness and desperation in the world than you can imagine, Mr. Lehnsherr,’ Emma said darkly. She lifted her hand to her temple. ‘I feel it, you see. Right here. You yourself aren’t as immune to the feeling as you would like the rest of us to think. Besides,’ she added even as Erik’s brow clouded over. ‘Ideas are dangerous things.’ Emma met Charles’s eyes. ‘You and I both know that, Mr. Xavier. In this case, the idea of Genosha is just as dangerous as Shaw is … After all, who, in the end, doesn’t want to belong?’

Charles returned her gaze. ‘So what do you suggest that we do?’ he asked, his voice steady.

Emma was silent for a moment. Then: ‘Destroy Genosha,’ she said flatly. She turned and met Erik’s eyes, her gaze boring into his. ‘ _Find_ it and then _destroy_ it. And if doing so means destroying Shaw …’ She shrugged. ‘Then so much the better.’

Erik narrowed his eyes at her. ‘You really expect us to believe that you want Shaw out of the picture?’ he said harshly.

Emma raised an eyebrow. ‘Why not? I have no love for him,’ she said candidly, leaning back in her chair. ‘And, to be frank, the sooner he’s out of the picture, the safer I will be.’

‘And it’s as simple as that.’

‘Yes,’ Emma said, giving him a cool look. ‘It really is.’ She then turned to face Charles. ‘Now then,’ she said, raising a languid eyebrow. ‘I’ve told you all I know, as I am sure you’re aware, so how about you and I get this thing over with so that I can get out of here?’

Charles glanced over at Erik.

‘Are we sure that she’s told us everything she knows?’ Erik asked, suspicious.

Charles considered for a moment and then nodded.

Erik sighed. ‘Very well, then,’ he said grimly, turning his eyes on a smirking Emma. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

*****

Five minutes later, Charles opened his eyes, his shoulders relaxing as he looked at Emma.

‘There,’ he said. ‘It’s done.’

Erik watched, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes narrowed. ‘I’m still not entirely sure what it is that you’ve done,’ he said darkly.

‘I’ve created a neural link between Miss Frost and myself,’ Charles explained while Emma glared at him. ‘It’s one-way, naturally, and it allows me to keep an eye on her from anywhere in the world, so that I can tell what she is getting up to.’ 

Erik frowned. ‘You mean you’ll be watching her – like a camera in her head?’ he asked, his brow creasing. 

‘It’s not so much a camera feed as it is an alarm,’ Charles said, shaking his head. ‘The moment she crosses a certain line, I become aware of it. And then I deal with her.’

‘And then he deals with me,’ Emma repeated impatiently, rolling her eyes. ‘Can I go now?’

Erik gave Charles a questioning look. Charles nodded.

‘Yes,’ Erik said shortly. ‘Get out.’

Emma smirked. ‘With pleasure,’ she said, rising from her seat and making her way to the door. ‘I’ll be seeing you, boys.’

‘No offence, Miss Frost,’ Charles said lightly. ‘But, charming as you are, I sincerely hope that I’ll never see you ever again.’

Emma’s smirk became sharper. ‘Right you are, Mr. Xavier,’ she said, dipping her head into a nod even as she reached for the door handle. ‘And right back at you.’ She then stopped, pausing in the doorway. ‘You know,’ she said slowly. ‘I probably ought to thank you for keeping your word, considering that there’s not many who would in such circumstances.’ She hesitated, as if considering whether she ought to say her next words. ‘I won’t do that, but – will you let me give you a word of advice?’

Charles cocked his head to the side. Then he slowly lowered his head into a brief nod.

Emma took a deep breath. ‘Next time?’ she said evenly, meeting his gaze. ‘Don’t keep your word. Don’t be merciful. You can’t afford it. Not with Shaw. Not with his people.’ 

Charles’s eyebrow rose. ‘Are you saying that I was too lenient with you?’ he asked, sounding curious.

Emma just shrugged. ‘All I’m saying is that the world needs bad men to keep other bad men from the door,’ she said levelly, her eyes still fixed on his. ‘And that if you really want to stop Shaw, then you should commit to it. Stop holding yourself back.’ Her eyes drifted to Erik for a moment, holding his gaze, before slipping back to Charles. ‘I know you have it in you. I felt it while you were rummaging through my mind. We’re more alike that you might think, Mr. Xavier.’

‘I beg to differ,’ Charles said, his voice turning a shade colder. ‘You and I are nothing alike, Miss Frost.’

Emma let out an amused laugh at that. ‘Don’t fool yourself that you’re a good man, sugar,’ she drawled, her eyes glinting. ‘You may play the part fine enough, but don’t kid yourself that you aren’t every bit as willing as I am to get your hands dirty in pursuit of what you want.’ Her eyes flicked over to Erik before returning to Charles. ‘You just need to decide whether whatever you want is worth ruining yourself over.’

And with that she pulled the door open and strode out, her head held high as she left.

*****

Erik waited for a minute after she had gone. Then he turned to Charles. ‘You shouldn’t have let her go so easily,’ he said harshly. ‘You should have taken her powers, Charles.’

Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that so?’ he asked mildly.

‘She’s dangerous,’ Erik said, his tone grim. ‘And it was naïve of you to believe her when she said that she didn’t wasn’t party to the murders.’

‘Naïve?’ Charles echoed, his expression going taut for a minute before he relaxed. ‘You and I have very different definitions of the word, my friend. Do you think that I wouldn’t check to see if she was telling the truth? I was in her _mind_ , Erik. I _know_ what happened. I _know_ that she was telling the truth.’

Erik’s mouth twisted mutinously but his shoulders lost some of their stiffness. ‘I still think that we should have arrested her,’ he said darkly. ‘She deserves to be punished, Charles. They all do.’

‘I know,’ Charles sighed. ‘But we have to keep an eye on the bigger picture here, Erik. Besides, we used to make similar deals with offenders all the time when we were with the police. You let a small fish go in order to go after the big fish. That’s exactly what has happened here.’

‘And are we so sure that Emma Frost is a small fish?’

Charles hesitated. ‘For now,’ he said at last. ‘She is for now.’

Erik sighed and ran a hand through his hair. ‘We shouldn’t have let her go,’ he said again, although this time he was more subdued. ‘She was right, Charles. We can’t be merciful with this. We can’t afford it.’ He met Charles’s eyes. ‘ _You_ can’t afford it.’

‘I know,’ Charles said patiently. ‘And I won’t be.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Erik demanded immediately. ‘Can you really be sure of that, Charles?’

Charles’s eyes narrowed. ‘What are you saying exactly?’

‘I’m saying that you let Emma Frost go,’ Erik said bluntly. ‘How can I be sure that when the time comes to stop Shaw that you won’t do the same?’ 

Charles let out a noise of impatience. ‘Because it’s _not_ the same. Shaw is another matter entirely. He’s dangerous – too dangerous to go free. I know the risks, Erik. I know what’s required of me.’

‘Do you?’ Erik shook his head. ‘You heard what she said, Charles. You can’t hold back. You can’t be merciful with these people.’

‘I know,’ Charles agreed. ‘And I don’t intend to. I will do exactly what is necessary to bring an end to this.’

Erik still looked doubtful.

Charles sighed. ‘You don’t believe me,’ he said, the words more of a statement than a question.

Erik closed his eyes. ‘It’s just – I know you, Charles. Or at least, I used to. And the Charles Xavier I knew would have had trouble admitting what needed to be done.’

‘There you are,’ Charles said, raising his chin. ‘I am not the Charles Xavier that you knew, my friend. I have changed a great deal over the last decade, and believe me, I have no trouble in admitting what needs to be done. Not in this case.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Erik asked.

Charles met his eyes, his gaze strangely intense. ‘I know who I am, Erik,’ he said quietly. ‘I know what I am capable of.’ He smiled a small, wan smile. ‘And after all this time … after all these years? Well. There’s a victory in that.’

Erik watched him for a moment, silent. Then he slowly nodded. ‘To victory,’ he said, reaching out and raising a glass of water in salute.

Charles watched him bring the glass to his mouth and take a drink. ‘Yes,’ he agreed, his eyes never leaving Erik’s. ‘To victory.’


	12. Chapter 12

The evening was spent documenting Emma Frost’s unofficial testimony and adding her notes to the trail that they had already forged in their hidden evidence room. Almost all of the holes in their case had disappeared, supplemented by Emma’s information; it was now just a matter of knowing how to use their findings to shape a new, more cohesive narrative for the case.

It was a long and painstaking endeavour, and only when it was long past midnight were they finally able to sit back, exhausted, and look over their newly-updated wall of evidence. 

‘So,’ Charles said quietly, his eyes lingering on a section of the wall completely dedicated to the victims of the murders. ‘Now we know.’

‘Now we know,’ Erik repeated. He looked carefully at the room around him. ‘It seems we were actually right about most of it.’

‘At least there’s that,’ Charles said, sending a dark look at the photograph of Sebastian Shaw that they had pinned at the centre of the wall. ‘We now have definite confirmation that we haven’t been barking up the wrong tree. That means something.’

‘Yes,’ Erik agreed. ‘It does. It means that we can stop waiting and start _acting_.’

‘Does it?’ Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not so sure. Think about it, Erik. We still have exactly the same as we did this morning. Which, in terms of evidence, isn’t very much at all.’

‘Emma—’

‘Emma’s testimony won’t help us,’ Charles shook his head. ‘Not if we want to keep the existence of mutants under wraps.’

Erik’s expression became mulish but after a moment he sighed. ‘You’re right,’ he said tiredly. ‘We can’t show the authorities what we have here. It relies too much on mutant ability … on people knowing about the existence of mutants.’

‘That can’t happen,’ Charles said softly.

Erik nodded. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But without that … there’s going to be a great big hole in the investigation, Charles. Shaw will never be convicted without the mutant narrative to explain things.’

‘Then we remake the narrative,’ Charles said, sitting up intently. ‘We’ve done it before, Erik. With Creed. We can do it again.’

Erik frowned. ‘Charles … Creed was one person. A person who was a complete unknown, someone out of the spotlight. He wasn’t a well-known, well-established politician – a _Mayor_ – like Shaw is. And I don’t need to tell you that the circumstances are entirely different as well – we can’t just manoeuvre things in whatever way we’d like, there’s too much scrutiny here. This needs to be airtight.’

‘I know,’ Charles said calmly. ‘I haven’t forgotten any of that, Erik. And I am not saying that we _manoeuvre_ things however we like, I’m not even saying that we should _forge_ anything … all I am saying is that we _tailor_ the evidence so that the mutant presence is removed, just the way we did with Creed.’ He waved a hand at the evidence boards and the walls around them. ‘We have all we need, Erik. The victims, the Brotherhood link, the friends in high places … We just have to remove mutants from the equation. It will still all fit.’

‘And the motive?’ Erik demanded, still unconvinced. ‘How are you going to explain that, Charles? What possible reason could Shaw have for killing these people?’

Charles shrugged. ‘A cult is a cult,’ he said, unfazed. ‘Sacrifices were needed. Shaw chose the most fragile and vulnerable people that he could find, and he did it by taking advantage of the Brotherhood Initiative, a programme that he had set up for the very purpose of attracting potential victims.’ He looked at Erik. ‘The story is still the same, Erik. The finer details have merely changed slightly.’

‘It’s weak,’ Erik said, folding his arms over his chest. 

‘It’s _plausible_ ,’ Charles countered. ‘I haven’t said anything that isn’t true. And we have enough evidence to back it all up – it all needs a bit of fine-tuning, yes, but it will work. I promise you.’

‘Hmm,’ Erik studied Charles for a moment. ‘It is plausible,’ he admitted after a moment. ‘But I still think it’s shaky. If we really want to convict Shaw, then we need something more definite.’ He met Charles’s eyes. ‘We need a confession.’

Charles let out a hissing breath. ‘We’ll need Shaw on tape,’ he said, his mind working. ‘It’s tricky … but it shouldn’t be _too_ difficult, I don’t think. Shaw seems like the kind of man who would enjoy talking about himself.’

Erik snorted. ‘You always were an optimist, Charles.’

‘Really?’ Charles shrugged. ‘Well. Someone needs to be. Especially where this case is concerned.’ 

‘Yes,’ Erik agreed. He met Charles’s eyes. ‘Rather you than me.’

Charles shrugged again. ‘As you wish,’ he said. His expression turned serious. ‘We will get that confession, Erik, I promise. I’ll _make_ him give it to us, if necessary. Whatever it takes.’

Erik’s smile sharpened. ‘Well well,’ he murmured. ‘Perhaps not such an optimist after all.’

Charles smiled. ‘Only when it suits me,’ he said but his eyes were cold.

*****

Rearranging the evidence to erase all traces of the mutant connection was not as easy as Charles had said it would be. It took them well over a week to build a logical and convincing case on Shaw that did not involve mutants or inhuman abilities, but even after this was done both Erik and Charles felt like there was a bad taste in their mouths.

‘I know that we need to keep mutants hidden, Charles,’ Erik said, glaring at the now-completed case file resting on the desk in front of them. ‘But the fact that we’re effectively covering up the real reason why these people were killed just does not sit right.’

‘I know,’ Charles agreed. ‘But there’s no other way, Erik. It’s the lesser of two evils. If we don’t, then—’

‘Yes, yes, I remember,’ Erik scowled. ‘“Better to be persecuted by the few than by the many”, isn’t that right?’ 

Charles sighed. ‘Right,’ he said, closing his eyes. ‘That.’

When he opened them again he saw that Erik’s attention had once again downwards to his lap, where he was holding a typed transcript of their conversation with Emma Frost. There was a heavily amended version of the transcript included in the official case file, but Erik was focused on the original. He had been preoccupied with it for some time now, as if something within its pages bothered him, but he hadn’t yet voiced his thoughts aloud. 

Charles’s gaze lingered on him and then he cocked his head to the side. ‘You have that look again,’ he said conversationally. ‘You know, it would be enormously helpful to the both of us if you actually decided to share whatever’s on your mind inside of keeping it to yourself.’

‘It’s not as if you can’t go inside my head and read what I’m thinking,’ Erik grumbled, but there was no heat in his words. He shook his head. ‘It’s just …’ he paused and then took a deep breath. ‘Emma Frost,’ he said slowly. ‘She said something …’

‘She said a lot of things.’

‘Yes, but I think she was hinting at something here.’ Erik ran a hand down one of the pages in front of him. ‘She said to find Genosha. Find Genosha and destroy it …’ 

Charles considered. ‘An odd choice of words, perhaps,’ he said cautiously. ‘But merely sound advice, as far as I can tell.’

‘ _Find_ Genosha,’ Erik repeated again. He leaned forward. ‘Charles, what if – what if she wasn’t speaking figuratively? What if she meant literally?’

Charles frowned. ‘I don’t understand you.’

‘What if Genosha is an actual place?’ Erik persisted, reaching out to grasp Charles’s knee. ‘What if Shaw already has somewhere … some place that he actually calls Genosha?’

Charles frowned. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, scratching his chin apologetically. ‘I mean, it’s a bit of a stretch.’

‘I know,’ Erik admitted. ‘But I’ve been thinking this over, running it over in my head. Frost strikes me as a woman who chooses her words very carefully – who doesn’t say anything without purpose. There was meaning in those words she spoke about Genosha, Charles, I am sure of it – and there was a _look_ she gave me when she said it …’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t explain it any better than that, but there was something _there_ , I know it.’

‘Okay,’ Charles said, no judgement in his tone. ‘But why wouldn’t she just tell us this directly?’

Erik gave him a look. ‘She wasn’t exactly here of her own volition, was she? And she’s hardly the sort who likes to give away secrets.’ He paused. ‘I don’t suppose you saw anything when you were in her head?’

Charles considered. ‘Nothing concrete,’ he said dubiously. ‘If there is a place called Genosha like you think then she has never been there herself. But whether it exists or not … I’m afraid I couldn’t say. It wasn’t something that I was looking for, you see – I was mainly checking to see if she was telling the truth when answering us – which she was, incidentally.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Erik said. ‘But that doesn’t mean that she didn’t hold anything back.’

‘If you say so,’ Charles said dryly, still looking doubtful. He glanced at Erik, studying his curiously expressionless face before his eyes dipped down to where Erik’s hands were clenched tightly in stark contrast to his outer calm. ‘But,’ Charles said slowly, his eyes never leaving Erik. ‘I suppose it won’t hurt to _check_ , if that’s what you want to do.’

Something immediately relaxed in Erik’s demeanour. ‘Alright then,’ he said, giving Charles a nod. ‘That’s what we’ll do.’ He met Charles’s eyes, his own gleaming brightly. ‘Genosha is real, Charles. And we are going to find it.’

*****

Genosha, it turned out, was not a real place. At least, it wasn’t a place that either Erik or Charles could find in an atlas or even on the computer.

‘We may just have to face up to the fact that it may not exist,’ Charles said, throwing his hands up in defeat and facing Erik with a weary expression on his face. 

‘Or maybe it’s just not an official name,’ Erik countered, raising an eyebrow. ‘Think about it, Charles. Shaw can’t just name some place however he wants at the drop of a hat. It would have to be done unofficially.’

‘I suppose,’ Charles said dubiously. He sighed. ‘You’re not letting this thing go any time soon, are you?’

Erik’s smile was humourless. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not.’ His expression flickered for a moment. ‘I really believe that we’re onto something with this, Charles. I’ve read over the transcript a hundred times, I keep playing Frost’s words back over and over, and – it _means_ something.’

Charles watched him for a moment. ‘Okay,’ he said after a beat, nodding his head. ‘Okay then.’ He straightened up. ‘I guess that means we’re onto plan B.’ At Erik’s raised eyebrow, Charles gave him a thin smile that was more of a grimace. ‘I hope you’re ready to go back to spending time in the car, Erik. We’re going to have to follow Shaw. Again.’

*****

The next few days were spent watching Sebastian Shaw, tailing him while keeping their distance. It turned into something of a frustrating exercise – to be so close to Shaw and yet so far. Wherever he went he never seemed to be without company: friends, bodyguards, lobbyists, underlings – he was a man constantly on the move and with barely a moment to spare.

‘It’s a wonder that he ever gets time to go around murdering people,’ Erik said, scowling darkly and glaring at the offices housing Shaw. 

‘I’m sure he clears his schedule for it,’ Charles said blithely. ‘And don’t forget – he has a teleporter with him. He doesn’t need to be gone for very long in order to commit murder, and he can always be back in time to provide a solid alibi.’

Erik’s expression hardened. ‘And we’re supposed to build a case against this man,’ he said darkly, his lips thinning.

Charles closed his eyes, all levity gone from his expression. ‘I know, Erik,’ he said quietly. ‘I know.’

Erik pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘We should have thought of that before,’ he said after a moment. ‘The teleporter, I mean. If there is a real Genosha out there then that’s how he’s getting there.’

Charles nodded. ‘I agree.’

‘You should concentrate on tracking him,’ Erik said, meeting his eyes. ‘Telepathically, I mean. I’ll stay with Shaw.’

Charles frowned. ‘You say it like it’s easy,’ he said reproachfully. ‘I told you before, Erik – it’s not easy to grasp his mind. There’s something … wispy about it.’

‘Can you try?’ Erik asked intently.

Charles gave him a look. Then he sighed. ‘I’ve been keeping an ear out for him,’ he said at last, shaking his head. ‘He hasn’t been around for a while, and when he has he hasn’t stayed for longer than a few minutes. If he comes by, and if he stays for longer than that, then I may – I _may_ – be able to latch on and get him. But I can’t promise anything, Erik – I’ve never met a teleporter before. I don’t know if this will work.’

‘It will work,’ Erik said firmly. ‘I have faith in you, Charles.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ Charles said, but his lips curved slowly upwards.

*****

The teleporter did not show up that day, or the next. Neither Charles nor Erik made a word of complaint.

‘You know,’ Charles said at one point, his voice quiet. ‘If I _do_ manage to get hold of the teleporter – if we _do_ get a lock on the location of Genosha – then that’s it. That’s what we will have been waiting for.’

‘I know,’ Erik said.

‘We’ll have to go in prepared to confront Shaw. We’ll have to go in _prepared_ , full stop.’

‘We are prepared,’ Erik said calmly. ‘We’ve built our case, we’ve made copies for everyone from the Feds to the newspapers and Detectives MacTaggert and Levine – you yourself handed them to your lawyers with strict instructions, I might add. Our gear is in the back of the car, we’ve got supplies, recording devices, maps … We’ve been waiting for this moment for over ten years, Charles – believe me when I say that we’re prepared.’

Charles let out a slow, steady breath. ‘I know,’ he said, grimacing. ‘I know. I’m just a tad on edge, I suppose.’ 

Erik glanced at him and then turned to face him fully. ‘We will get him Charles,’ he said softly, reaching across to lay his hand over Charles’s. ‘We will catch Shaw, I promise you.’

Charles nodded and then closed his eyes. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s just that – Erik,’ he turned to look at him, and there was wealth of emotion in his voice. ‘This thing could be over _tomorrow_. It could be _over_.’

Erik met his eyes, and Charles could see the same unspoken feelings reflected in his gaze. ‘Yes, it could,’ he said, smiling slightly. ‘It _will_.’ He then turned away, his smile dissipating into something harder and more determined. ‘One way or another, Charles. It will all be over.’

*****

It was almost a week before Azazel the teleporter returned to Shaw’s circle. Charles, slumped in the seat of the car next to Erik, abruptly jerked up, his eyes alert and unblinking as he turned towards the Shaw mansion.

‘What is it?’ Erik asked at once, turning towards him. ‘Is it him?’

‘Quiet,’ Charles snapped. He frowned, deep in concentration, closing his eyes and tilting his head towards the house. 

Erik waited as Charles strained and grimaced, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Charles’s face.

‘It’s difficult to pin him down,’ Charles said at last, still keeping his eyes closed. ‘And I don’t want to dig too deeply or he might sense I’m there. I’m in his head, though, so as long as he thinks of where he’s going to go before he actually leaves, then I’ll be able to see his destination too.’

‘Then let’s just hope that he and Shaw are heading to Genosha,’ Erik said grimly.

‘Chances are good,’ Charles said vaguely, still concentrating. ‘Shaw wouldn’t need him there otherwi—’ He suddenly paused. ‘Wait. I have something.’

‘What is it?’ Erik demanded. ‘What’s happening?’

‘They’re getting ready to go somewhere,’ Charles said tightly. ‘He and Shaw.’

‘Can you tell where?’

‘It’s difficult, he’s thinking in images not in coordinates or maps,’ Charles said flatly. ‘Give me a moment, would you?’

Erik nodded and reluctantly sat back, waiting. After a minute, however, he impatiently leaned forward again. ‘You have anything yet?’

Charles gave him a dirty look. ‘We really need to work on your patience,’ he muttered, but after a pause he slowly nodded. ‘I’ve got him,’ he said quietly. ‘I still don’t know where exactly he’s going, but … I will be able to tell where he has been. When he gets there.’ 

‘You’ll be able to stay linked to him even when he makes the jump?’ Erik asked, frowning.

‘For about a second maybe,’ Charles replied grimly. ‘For that moment where he’s not quite arrived and not quite left. It’s not long, but it should be enough.’

Erik gave him a nod. ‘Good enough,’ he said.

Charles smiled thinly. ‘Now all we need to do is wait,’ he murmured.

Five minutes later, he suddenly sat up and blinked. ‘Got it,’ he said, his voice low but triumphant.

Erik raised an eyebrow and used his powers to turn the key in the ignition. ‘Shall we?’

Charles smiled at him, his eyes glinting. ‘Yes,’ he said, anticipation tangible with every word. ‘Let’s.’

*****

‘How much longer?’

Charles opened an eye and glanced out at the road before him. ‘Keep going.’ 

Erik let out a grunt. ‘Not what I asked.’

‘I know,’ Charles turned to him. ‘But it’s all that I’m saying.’

Erik turned to him with a dry look. They had been driving for the better part of an hour and their anticipation had quickly fizzled into grim sobriety and – on Charles’s part – the same introspective lethargy that always afflicted him whenever he was out of reach of other minds. ‘Play your games, Charles,’ he said, turning back to the road. ‘But I trust you’ll know when to stop.’

‘That’s the trick, isn’t it?’ Charles murmured, leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed. ‘Knowing when to stop.’

Erik quickly glanced at him. When Charles didn’t stir, however, he went back to staring at the road, his brow slightly furrowed. After that they both remained silent, Charles seeming to doze lightly in the passenger seat while Erik kept his eyes fixed on the road. 

Nearly half an hour later, Charles opened his eyes and blinked slowly at the area around them.

Erik caught the movement and turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised in question.

‘We’re almost there,’ Charles said quietly. ‘Just a few more miles down that road, and we’ll be there.’

Erik took a deep breath and then, with a glance at Charles, carefully steered the car over to the side of the empty road. ‘So,’ he said, turning the engine off. ‘How do we do this?’

Charles took a deep breath. ‘We go in quietly,’ he said. ‘And we scope the place out. Just like we talked about.’

‘And when we find Shaw?’

‘ _If_ we find Shaw,’ Charles said cautiously, ‘ _If_ he’s still there when we arrive, then we confront him, get his confession, and bring him in.’

‘We arrest him,’ Erik said slowly.

Charles’s eyes narrowed. ‘We’ve talked about this before, Erik. We’re arresting him.’

Erik held his hands up. ‘I know,’ he said, nodding briefly. ‘It wasn’t a challenge, Charles, just a confirmation.’ He lowered his hands. ‘First thing we need to do is get him away from that teleporter if we can.’

Charles nodded. ‘Leave it to me,’ he said grimly.

They sat there for a moment in silence.

‘You know,’ Erik said after a pause, his voice low and tight. ‘There’s a good chance that we won’t be getting out of there.’

Charles stared straight ahead at the windscreen in front of him. ‘Yes,’ he said after the barest moment’s hesitation. ‘I know.’

There was silence. Neither Charles nor Erik spoke. Then:

‘Charles.’ Erik’s voice was hoarse, and, when Charles turned to look at him, his normally cool expression was filled with barely-suppressed emotion.

Charles’s expression softened. ‘Oh Erik,’ he said softly. ‘I know.’

Erik swallowed and raised his eyes to meet Charles’s unwaveringly, his expression almost fierce. Then, his gaze dipping, he slowly looked down to where there hands were laying a scant hair’s breadth apart. 

Charles followed his gaze downwards. He held his hand there, unmoving for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he reluctantly pulled it away. ‘Not now, my friend,’ Charles said gently. ‘Just – not now.’

Erik nodded, looking pained, but he quickly composed himself. He waited for a moment and then looked up, meeting Charles’s eyes again without any hint of self-consciousness. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Shall we go?’

Charles studied him for a minute. ‘Not yet,’ he said at last. 

Erik gave him a questioning look.

‘First,’ Charles said, his tone light, ‘I think I have a phone call to make.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘Then make it.’

Charles regarded him for a moment and then gave him a grave nod. Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he stepped out of the car and walked to the edge of the road, slowly raising the phone to his ear.

He made the call.

Then, after the barest pause, he took a deep breath and made another.

When he was done he went back to the car, a grim expression on his face.

‘Done?’ Erik asked when Charles sat down next to him.

Charles gave him a tight smile. ‘I certainly hope so,’ he said. He turned towards the road. ‘Shall we?’

Erik didn’t answer but he reached for the keys and turned the engine on. 

The car pulled away from the roadside and started onwards.

*****

Finding Genosha wasn’t too difficult, in the end – not for two people with their particular abilities.

The lonely, sparse landscape surrounding them had gradually changed into woodland, and the road continued through it, lined by trees on either side. There was no path as such – no way of telling where to leave the road when the time came – but Charles had registered the settlement from miles away, and Erik could feel the pull of metal nearby, and this told them all they needed to know about where to stop. They pulled over on the edge of the wood, making no effort to keep the car out of sight from the road.

‘There’s no point,’ Erik had said ruefully, looking down at the car with something like regret. ‘The car is going to be the least of our worries after this. Besides, we need a way to mark our location so that others can find us.’

‘Yes,’ Charles agreed. ‘The car should point anyone who comes looking in the right direction, even if we can’t.’

Erik had looked at him, but he said nothing.

That had been almost ten minutes ago. They had ensured that they were both armed and wearing tactical vests – ‘everyone steals things from work,’ Erik had said with a shrug when Charles raised an eyebrow at the sight of the bulky kevlar – and had entered the wood, orientating themselves solely by use of their powers.

They walked for a surprisingly long time before Erik had held up a hand, signalling for Charles to stop. 

‘There,’ he said quietly, raising an arm and pointing. ‘The trees thin out over there. And I can feel things … pipes and gates and nails … There are buildings there, Charles … houses or structures of some sort.’

Charles nodded in grim acknowledgement, and they then resumed their slow move into the clearing.

Erik had been correct to say that there were buildings to be found in the clearing. There weren’t very many structures in the area – no more than five, and all of them modestly sized and one-storied – but there was definitely some sort of settlement located there.

‘Genosha?’ Charles murmured to Erik.

Erik nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said grimly. ‘I think it is.’

Charles’s smile thinned. ‘Well then,’ he said, raising his gun, his eyes gleaming coldly. ‘Let’s go and say hello.’

*****

Preliminary searches – mainly done via their powers – quickly revealed that the buildings were empty. Memories of the telepathy-resistant Creed ensured that they made visual checks inside the buildings as well – it wouldn’t do to be ambushed midway through their confrontation with Shaw – but their way was surprisingly clear.

 _ **Suspiciously** clear,_ Erik said darkly.

_Perhaps our arrival isn’t as unanticipated as we were hoping_ , Charles agreed, his tone grim.

_That doesn’t mean that we should do away with stealth entirely_ , Erik warned. _We still need to be careful, regardless of whether Shaw knows we’re coming or not._

_Don’t worry._ Charles gave him a sharp smile. _I’ll be as quiet as a mouse._ He then nodded towards the final building at the edge of the clearing. _Shall we?_

Erik nodded, and they slowly crept forward.

The last building was not like the previous ones. For one, it was much larger than the others by quite a considerable extent. For another, it was clearly more expensive and ornate than the other buildings, and as they saw when they came closer, this building had a large golden plaque on the front.

_Genosha_ , it read, and just below it, _A Brotherhood of Mutants_.

_Erik_ , Charles said wonderingly. _Erik – I think this is a **church**. A **mutant** church!_

_And there’s our Brotherhood connection,_ Erik said grimly, staring at the sign with intense dislike. _More proof that it was created to lure in victims._

_Not just victims, Erik_ , Charles murmured. _Recruits_.

_Which begs the question_ , Erik said, his voice tight. _Where exactly are they?_

_Let’s add that to the list of questions that we ask Shaw_ , Charles said, stepping away from the sign and cautiously making his way towards the door, his gun held out in front.

Erik followed after him, silent.

The doors to the church were of a heavy wooden sort, and they were currently shut firmly against outsiders.

_Good thing we don’t need to knock them down_ , Charles thought wryly, before stepping back gracefully and allowing Erik to take over.

Erik gave him a small nod, and, moving forward, reached out with his senses. He found multiple locks on the door – keys, bolts, chains – all securing it from invaders. Or, at least, invaders without convenient mutant powers. He turned to look at Charles.

Charles nodded.

Erik closed his eyes and _squeezed_.

There was a loud _shriek_ as the metal was torn away from the door, unceremoniously ripped out and flung away.

As one, Erik and Charles surged forward. They pushed through the door, side by side, with their guns raised and their powers extended, ready to face off against an attacker.

No attack came.

Erik grimaced. _Well that was a—_

‘A knock would have sufficed.’

Charles and Erik’s eyes flew to the front of the church, their spines rigid and their weapons held out in front of them.

‘Gentlemen,’ Sebastian Shaw’s smile was broad, his arms spread wide in welcome as his voice echoed down through the hall of the stone church. ‘At last we meet. Welcome, my friends, to Genosha.’

Erik and Charles glanced at each other, caught off-guard for the briefest moment. Then, as one, they both stepped slowly towards the apse where Shaw was seated, their guns held out in front of them. They were both acutely aware of their surroundings – of the dimly-lit interior of the church, the cold air that raised the hair on their arms, the empty pews vacant of parishioners – and, more than all of those, of Shaw at the head of the building, shrouded in black with a silver circlet on his head, sitting on a large, ornate chair that looked several centuries old, his arms still raised in welcome.

‘The Black King in Genosha,’ Charles murmured, never taking his eyes away from Shaw. ‘Just like Angel wrote.’ _Is your microphone on?_ he asked Erik mentally. 

Erik’s head tipped downwards the barest fraction in acknowledgement.

_Good_ , Charles said as they slowly made their way through the church. _We’ll have to get Shaw to confess the old fashioned way, I’m afraid. It’s just like at the gala – I can’t read him at all. It must be part of his mutation._

Erik’s eyes narrowed, and, although he didn’t say anything, his grip on his gun tightened.

‘Please,’ Shaw said, lowering his arms as they approached his seat, his mouth fixed in a benevolent smile. ‘Do come and take a seat.’ He gestured towards the pews.

‘We’ll stand, thank you,’ Charles said coldly, his gun still aimed high. 

Shaw inclined his head. ‘As you wish,’ he said graciously.

‘Hands where we can see them,’ Erik barked. His eyes flickered from side to side. ‘Where is everyone?’ he demanded.

‘Everyone?’ Shaw raised an eyebrow. Then his expression cleared. ‘Ah, I suppose you mean my congregation.’ He swept a hand over the empty pews. ‘They are not here right now, I am afraid. It’s a bit late for church, don’t you agree?’

_That doesn’t mean that there aren’t other people around_ , Erik said warningly into Charles’s mind. _Keep an eye out._

_I will_ , Charles assured him. ‘Is there anybody else nearby?’ he asked Shaw, glancing around. ‘A teleporter, for instance?’

Shaw laughed. ‘Oh, Azazel is somewhere about,’ he said, appearing completely relaxed despite the fact that he had two guns pointed at him. ‘Don’t worry though, gentlemen, he won’t disturb us unless it becomes necessary. This is a – er – _private sermon_.’

Charles arched an eyebrow even as he cleared the area, making sure that there was no one else present inside the church. ‘A sermon, Mr. Shaw?’ he murmured, returning his attention to the front. ‘I wouldn’t have taken you for a religious man. Your mayoral platform certainly did not showcase any real religious convictions, as far as I am aware.’

Shaw smiled. ‘True enough,’ he agreed pleasantly. ‘I am afraid that – thus far – I have only shared my religious ideals with a select audience … among _like-minded_ individuals, if you will. Not for long, however.’ His smile thinned, his eyes gleaming sharply. ‘My message will spread soon enough.’

Charles and Erik shared a look.

‘Care to share the details with us?’ Charles asked lightly.

‘Oh, I think you are aware of the basic tenets,’ Shaw said with a vague wave of the hand. ‘After all,’ he smiled. ‘You found your way into our church.’ He gestured to the building around them.

‘Yes, we were rather curious about that,’ Charles said, glancing around at walls surrounding them. ‘Tell me – what exactly is this a church _of_?’

Shaw gave them a look. ‘Isn’t obvious?’ he asked. At their expressions, he shook his head. ‘Gentlemen – it’s a church of _mutants_.’

Charles let out a hissing breath.

Erik narrowed his eyes. ‘And who do they worship in this church?’ he growled. ‘ _You?_ ’

Shaw laughed at that. ‘Well, it’s a church to mutantkind,’ he said, giving them a wink. ‘But since we’re such great friends already, I suppose there’s no need to be coy about it, so – yes, essentially _me_.’

Charles stared at him whilst Erik’s lips curled in disgust.

‘I always knew that politicians were vain,’ Charles murmured, shaking his head. ‘But you, Mr. Mayor – you really know how to go that extra mile.’

Shaw preened. He then lowered his head and regarded Charles with something akin to fondness. ‘Coming from you, Mr. Xavier?’ he said mildly. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

Both Charles and Erik went still.

‘… You know who we are, then?’ Erik said after a beat.

Shaw raised an eyebrow. ‘Did you ever really doubt it?’ he asked reasonably.

Charles eyed him warily. ‘How long have you known about us?’

Shaw smirked. ‘You mean how long have I known that you were investigating me?’ His tone was silky. ‘Or that you were mutants?’ He turned to Erik. ‘You have a fascinating mutation, by the way, Mr. Lehnsherr – telekinesis, is it?’

Erik didn’t respond.

Shaw sighed. ‘I have followed your careers very closely,’ he said, returning his attention to Charles. ‘I’ve been aware of your investigation from the very start – I have friends in very high places, as I am sure you know, and they’ve kept me well apprised of your progress. I was also made aware the moment that you returned to town, Mr. Xavier – I may not have known what exactly you were doing since the two of you hid yourselves away in those ramshackle little offices of yours, but I had no doubt that you were following up on the case. As for your being mutants …’ He shrugged. ‘Well – I always had my suspicions. You seemed to know far too much –you knew exactly _where_ to look and what to look _at_ – for it to be just luck or intelligence, but I wasn’t sure … I couldn’t prove it. Well. Not until you took Emma.’

Charles shifted slightly while Erik’s eyes narrowed. ‘What gave it away?’ he asked.

The look Shaw gave them was nothing short of patronising. ‘I didn’t just keep Miss Frost around for her looks, you know, gentlemen. She did have _some_ use apart from prettying the place up. She was powerful in her own way … no normal person could have taken her down. No … _human_.’ Shaw wrinkled his nose as if he were saying a dirty word. 

‘Are you really so sure of that?’ Charles asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shaw smiled. ‘Yes,’ he said pleasantly. Then he narrowed his eyes. ‘Which is why I also know that as much as I admire brute force, it would not have been enough to subdue Emma.’ He turned to Charles, his gaze speculative. ‘Which makes me wonder about _you_ , Mr. Xavier … it makes me wonder a good deal.’

Erik made an aborted move to step forward, only barely managing to restrain himself at the last second.

Shaw observed him with a smile before turning back to Charles. ‘Do enlighten me, Mr. Xavier – I am positively _dying_ to know what your gift is.’

Charles arched an eyebrow. ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,’ he said amiably, appearing completely unfazed by the attention.

Shaw let out a bark of laughter. ‘Tempting,’ he said genially. ‘But I suppose we will both find out in due course … one way or another.’

‘In due course?’ Erik demanded, regarding Shaw suspiciously. ‘Why? Why not now?’

Shaw sent him a reproachful look. ‘You wouldn’t make me forgo my recruitment speech now, would you, boys?’ he asked, feigning disappointment. ‘I do _so_ enjoy drawing people to the cause.’

‘I think it’s more that you enjoy hearing the sound of your own voice,’ Charles said dryly. ‘And I think that we can skip the speeches, Mr. Shaw. Neither Erik nor I are interested in hearing anything that you have to say on that score.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Shaw murmured, casting a sly glance at Erik. 

Erik bristled. ‘We’re not here to listen to your views on mutant supremacy, Shaw,’ he said stonily. ‘We’re here because you’re a sadistic piece of shit who needs to be stopped.’

Shaw gave him a look that was almost paternal. ‘So impatient,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You will need to remedy that, my boy. Patience is, after all, a virtue.’

‘Somehow I doubt that _virtue_ is something that you are familiar with,’ Erik snarled.

Shaw sighed. ‘Then you would be wrong,’ he said plainly. He scrutinised Erik for a moment before shaking his head. ‘You do not have the scope to see what I see, Mr. Lehnsherr. It is only to be expected, I suppose … most people do not live as long as I do. As I _have_. They do not know what the human race is capable of.’ He met Erik’s eyes, his expression suddenly serious. ‘The human threat to mutantkind is a very real one, my boy. As I am sure you have started to realise for yourself.’

Erik narrowed his eyes. ‘So far the only threat to mutantkind that I have encountered is _you_ ,’ he said flatly.

‘What can I say?’ Shaw shrugged, unremorseful. ‘I am proactive. I will not wait until the humans eradicate our kind; I will ensure the opposite. The old must give way to the new, Mr. Lehnsherr. It is for the humans to give way to the new, superior species.’

Erik and Charles exchanged a look.

‘I don’t suppose you want to try lecturing _him_ about how mutants are also human beings, do you Charles?’ Erik muttered under his breath.

‘Somehow I don’t think that he’s a man that cares all that much for the laws of science,’ Charles replied grimly. ‘Or _any_ laws, come to think of it.’

Shaw laughed. ‘You are one to speak of laws, Mr. Xavier,’ he said, his tone full of false-reproach. ‘Or do you not believe that entering a charity gala under false pretences is unlawful – or at the very least, _extremely_ bad manners?’ He raised an eyebrow when Charles’s lips thinned. ‘Don’t try to deny it, Mr. Xavier – _Charles_ , may I call you Charles? I saw you there with my own two eyes. I would have come over to say hello, but I was unfortunately otherwise engaged.’ He cocked his head, looking amused. ‘Did you enjoy it by the way? I myself thought the wine was rather dry for my liking … but every man has his own unique tastes, wouldn’t you agree?’ He smiled, his pearly-white teeth gleaming even in the dull light of the building.

‘Oh, I do,’ Charles said at once. ‘The problem lies in the fact that _your_ tastes just happen to extend to sadism and murder.’

Shaw gave a theatrical sigh. ‘You do me a disservice there, I am afraid,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You’ve been labouring under an unfortunate falsehood. You seem to think that I _enjoy_ the killing. I don’t, you know – not really. _Creed_ might have,’ he added after a pause. ‘But for me … well, truth be told, every drop of mutant blood that is shed pains me more than I can say. It is a waste, one that I really wish was not necessary.’

‘ _Necessary?_ ’ Erik barked, unable to restrain himself, and around him the building creaked as the metal vibrated under the force of his anger. ‘You think it was _necessary_ to murder those people?’ He ignored the look of interest that Shaw shot him as a metal pipe creaked loudly in the wall, causing the building to shudder. ‘Angel Salvadore, Armando Munoz, Mortimer Toynbee, Warren Worthington, Henry McCoy, _countless_ others … you thought their deaths – their _mutilations_ – were _necessary_?’

Shaw blinked. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘ _Yes._ Or would you rather have had the humans discover that they were mutants?’

‘I would rather that they hadn’t been _murdered_!’ Erik snarled, his mouth twisted in anger.

Shaw sighed. ‘It is unfortunate that things happened that way,’ he admitted. ‘And believe me, my friends, it was a difficult decision to make. As I said before, I deeply regret every single drop of mutant blood spilled.’

‘Not enough to stop, though,’ Charles observed. 

‘No,’ Shaw agreed, raising his head. ‘Not enough to stop.’ He shrugged. ‘But only because I have my eyes on the bigger picture. The few that fall now will be nothing compared to the thousands that will be slaughtered the day that the humans find out about us.’ Erik twitched at this, even as Shaw continued. ‘By doing what I do now, I hope to save our kind from such a massacre in the future. A few for the many, Mr. Xavier,’ he said, sitting up straighter. ‘And when the time comes, we will rise up above the humans and take our rightful places as gods.’

‘Gods?’ Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, I suppose that explains the church.’ He cocked his head to the side. ‘A bit too on the nose, though, don’t you think?’

Shaw shook his head. ‘You think that the church is unwarranted,’ he said almost kindly. ‘But _think_ about it: what are churches but monuments to god? And what are we mutants – we few with abilities that mere men can only _dream_ of – but _gods_ to these ants whom we could so easily crush underfoot?’

Charles snorted in dark amusement. ‘I don’t believe in God, Mr. Shaw,’ he said blandly. ‘But even I know that you and I are no more god-like than the next human being.’

Shaw sighed, shaking his head in mild disappointment, before turning to Erik. ‘And you, Mr. Lehnsherr?’ he asked, straightening up. ‘What do _you_ think?’

Erik hesitated. 

Charles’s jaw twitched and he turned to glance at Erik, but Erik didn’t look back.

Shaw smiled knowingly. ‘Well, well,’ he murmured, his eyes glinting.

Erik scowled and quickly shook his head, firmly raising his gun and aiming it at Shaw’s chest. ‘My beliefs are irrelevant,’ he growled. ‘That’s not what this is about, Shaw. This is about you being a sick, twisted son of a bitch, about you killing our people in cold blood, about you _mutilating_ them, _butchering_ them. Not your fucked-up delusions of godliness.’

Shaw simply smiled and raised his arms. ‘I never said that I was a benevolent god,’ he said easily. ‘Consider me the other kind. The Old Testament kind.’

‘As we said before,’ Charles said, his tone cold. ‘We do not consider you a god at all.’

Shaw shook his head. ‘You disappoint me,’ he said regretfully. ‘I do so enjoy being worshipped.’ 

‘Enough,’ Erik growled. He took a step forward, his gun still raised. ‘We are done talking about this Shaw. We’re taking you in.’

Charles frowned. _Erik, the—_

_I know_ , Erik said tightly. _But I can’t listen to any more of him right now._

Shaw raised an eyebrow, looking completely unconcerned. ‘Is that so?’ he asked. He nodded to the gun. ‘And you intend to use _human_ means to do so?’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘My dear boy, at least do me the courtesy of facing me like a _mutant_.’

Erik’s lip curled. ‘You do not deserve that courtesy.’ He raised his gun.

Shaw smiled.

Then Erik’s head suddenly jerked up, his attention drawn to something in the distance. Glancing over at Charles, he saw that he too had his head angled in the same direction, his eyes narrowed.

_There’s a vehicle approaching_ , Erik told him.

_I know_ , Charles replied.

A sudden puff of smoke and blur of movement at the head of the church had them both immediately return their attention to the front, their shoulders tense and their weapons aimed high.

Beside Shaw had appeared Azazel, the devilish, red-skinned mutant that they had seen with Emma Frost at Shaw’s gala. He gave them both a wary, slightly disdainful look before turning to Shaw and whispering in his ear.

Shaw listened for a moment, murmuring something in response, before the red mutant flicked his tail sharply, cast a dark look in Charles’s direction, and then abruptly disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Charles raised his eyes to see Shaw smirking down at him. ‘Peeking is rude, Mr. Xavier,’ he said reproachfully, his eyes glinting. ‘I’m afraid that Azazel did not appreciate your attempt.’ He regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Telepathy, then? Like Emma. I suspected as much.’

Charles did not react. ‘Who exactly is Azazel?’ he asked instead. ‘What does he do for you?’

Shaw shrugged. ‘Every god needs his devil,’ he said, smiling lazily. His gaze sharpened. ‘But I think there are more important questions that need to be asked, Mr. Xavier.’

‘Such as?’

Shaw’s smile was thin. ‘Such as _who_ exactly are the people currently approaching my church?’

Charles and Erik glanced at each other.

‘We don’t know,’ Erik said.

Shaw looked between the two of them. His smile hardened. ‘You’re trying my patience, gentlemen,’ he said coldly.

‘Do you expect us to apologise for that?’ Charles asked.

Outside, there came the sound of a car pulling up close by.

All three of them held themselves still.

There was the slam of a car door – _two_ car doors, one on each side – and then a brief moment of silence. Then there was a sudden shout and two – three, four, _five_ – bullets were fired, accompanied by a chorus of confused yells and swearing.

Time seemed to stop.

Then all at once Shaw threw himself to his feet, his mockery of a throne somehow flung far backwards in the motion, while at the same time Charles raised his gun with a shout, even as Erik gritted his teeth and _fired_ —

The bullet shot forward, heading straight for Shaw’s chest … And then promptly bounced off his front, falling down to the ground uselessly. It was as if it had been met by a brick wall.

Both Erik and Charles held their breath, their guns still raised.

Shaw looked down at where the bullet now lay at his feet, twisted and misshapen, and then up at Charles and Erik.

‘Oh,’ he said quietly. ‘You _really_ shouldn’t have done that.’


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one you've been waiting for.
> 
> Warnings for violence and blood.

Shaw raised his arm up towards them, and his hand started _glowing_ …

And then Azazel suddenly reappeared in the room in a puff of smoke, catching them all off guard, clutching a red hand to an even redder, bloodied arm, where a bullet seemed to have grazed him.

‘ _Polizia_ ,’ he hissed in response to Shaw’s sharp look. ‘Humans. Two of them.’

Shaw raised an eyebrow. ‘… Unexpected,’ he said, angling his head towards Charles and Erik even as he slowly lowered his arm. ‘I must say, given what I have heard of the two of you, I did not expect you to involve others in this … particularly not _human_ police.’ He turned back to Azazel, who was waiting, his tail flicking anxiously from side to side. ‘Riptide is with you?’ Azazel nodded. ‘Then the two of you should be sufficient.’ He glanced at Erik and Charles. ‘Take these two with you. Kill the humans, then kill them. Keep it simple.’

‘Wait, what—’ Erik demanded, but it was too late. One moment Azazel was standing at Shaw’s side, then the next he was behind them, clawed hands sinking into their shoulders, and the world was dissolving, the air ripped from their lungs—

And then they reappeared outside the church, 

Erik and Charles staggered, choked by sulphur, their knees weak and their eyes watering. 

‘Get down!’

The words did not register at first, but then Erik was grabbing hold of Charles, yanking him away and pulling him down to the ground, just as a flurry of bullets arced in their direction. Azazel snarled out a curse and immediately disappeared in a puff of smoke, but not before a bullet had clipped him in the shin.

Charles coughed, his throat still clogged from the smoke exuded from Azazel’s teleportation. Erik was braced above him, his face slightly pale but his eyes intense as he ran his eyes over Charles, making sure that he wasn’t hurt.

‘You okay?’ he asked.

Charles nodded. ‘Yes,’ he wheezed. He slowly pulled himself to his feet. ‘We’d better get to cover,’ he said, glancing around warily. ‘There’s no telling wh—’

‘Down,’ Erik barked, pushing Charles away just as Azazel burst back into view, his sharp, pointed tail curving towards them dangerously even as he brought down a brutally sharp sword over their heads. 

_Get a hold of him_ , Erik told Charles, even as he seized the teleporter’s sword and pulled, simultaneously slamming down his gun to batter it against Azazel’s head. _I’ll keep him busy while you find a way into his mind._

 _Understood_ , Charles said, even as he heard his name shouted from behind.

‘Xavier!’

Charles jerked backwards to see Detective MacTaggert crouched down behind an overturned car – doubtless the one she had arrived in – with a fine bloodied cut running across her left cheekbone. Behind her lay the crumpled form of Detective Levine, his eyes fluttering dazedly and his leg sticking out an odd angle. 

‘Detective,’ Charles murmured as he too slipped behind the car, his telepathy already spread out, searching for Azazel. ‘You found us alright, then?’

‘Saw your car on the road,’ Moira grunted, without sparing him a glance. ‘Drove in a little further and found this place.’

‘Hmm,’ Charles hummed. He glanced at Levine. ‘What happened to him?’

‘He got caught in a whirlwind,’ Moira answered, even as she scanned the surrounding area with her eyes, her gun clasped tightly in her hands. ‘The wind guy?’ she continued when she saw Charles look at her in confusion.

Charles frowned. ‘The wind guy?’

Moira raised an eyebrow and then nodded behind Charles. ‘On your left.’

Charles turned just in time to see a long-haired man with whirlwinds trailing from the palms of his hands stalk towards them and fling an uprooted tree in their direction. 

‘Down,’ he hissed, dragging MacTaggert down and grimacing as the tree struck the corner of their car-barricade. 

‘You know, a little warning would have been greatly appreciated before you dragged us down here, Xavier,’ MacTaggert snarled, hauling Levine back so that no branches swiped him. ‘If I had known what we were going to walk into then I would have brought the fucking army.’

Charles glanced over at her, his hand raised to his temple. ‘You’re taking this a lot more calmly than I thought you would,’ he said casually, even as he sought out the wind mutant – no doubt the so-called Riptide that Shaw had mentioned – with his mind.

‘Only on the outside,’ Moira said grimly. She shook her head as a blast of wind almost tore the car away from them. ‘What the hell did my partner and I just walk into, Xavier?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Charles said blandly, his attention distracted by Azazel flicking out of sight from where he had been engaging with Erik. ‘Don’t worry, Agent MacTaggert, I still plan to fulfil my promise to you. I will tell you everything once this is all over.’

‘You mean if we even get out of this alive,’ Moira retorted, before giving him a narrow look. ‘Now _please_ tell me that you and Lehnsherr have some tricks of your own to counteract the – the _whatever the hell_ is happening right now.’

At that moment, a length of metal fence ripped itself from the earth behind them and started to hurl towards Riptide. Looking up, Charles and Moira saw Erik standing tall in front of them, his arm outstretched, a look of concentration etched deeply onto his face.

Charles smiled humourlessly. ‘Does that answer your question, Detective MacTaggert?’ 

Moira looked carefully from Erik to Charles and then back again. ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘Yes, I believe that it does.’ She shook her head, before turning her attention back to the surrounding area. ‘You and Lehnsherr have a _lot_ to explain, Mr. Xavier.’

‘Later, Detective,’ Charles said calmly. ‘And believe me, if we survive this then it is no more than you deserve.’ He stood up, straightening his shoulders, and walked out from behind the crumpled car towards where Riptide was trying to use his whirlwinds to free himself from the metal prison that Erik had fenced him behind. ‘Sleep,’ Charles said, raising a hand, and he immediately slumped down, the whirlwinds dissipating instantly.

‘How did you _do_ that?’ he heard Moira demand from behind him, but his attention was already elsewhere, focused on Erik, who was still battling Azazel.

‘Charles!’ Erik shouted as Azazel reappeared, slashing at him with his tail and with long talon-like nails.

‘Stay back,’ Charles warned Moira as she raised her gun, pointing her instead towards Riptide. ‘Make sure he’s down!’ he shouted, before jogging over to where Erik was standing alone, Azazel having once again disappeared.

Erik was panting harshly, deep bloody scratches littered all over his body. ‘He’s too quick, Charles,’ he heaved, eyes darting wildly from side to side. ‘I can’t see where he’s coming from.’

‘I know,’ Charles said grimly, gun in hand even as he mentally scanned the area. ‘We need to subdue him, Erik. We can’t risk him bringing reinforcements, or escaping with Shaw.’

‘We can’t risk him _killing_ us,’ Erik gritted out, wincing as a cut at his jaw sent a throb of pain through him. ‘What do you suggest we do?’

‘I need him to stop teleporting so quickly,’ Charles said in a low voice, his senses on alert. ‘His mind is unusual enough as it is, and on top of that he’s been moving too quickly for me to get any sort of a handle on it. I need him to stay in one place for a good long minute or so.’

‘Easier said than done,’ Erik muttered, before giving him a sharp nod. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Charles nodded in return and braced himself, waiting for Azazel to reappear. 

He didn’t have to wait long. There was a sudden mental presence behind him that hadn’t been there before, and Charles barely had time to throw himself to the floor before a sword swiped down, just where Charles’s neck had been. 

‘Erik,’ he gasped, but Erik was already there, ripping the sword out of Azazel’s grasp and melting it down with his powers even as Azazel teleported away and then back again in an instant, moving far too fast for either Charles or Erik to get a firm grip on him.

‘Hold him, Charles,’ Erik warned.

‘You hold him first,’ Charles shot back.

Erik let out a snarl, before reaching back and _yanking_ , pulling all available metal to his hands and twining the ropes of metal into chains. 

He had barely a handful of seconds to wait until Azazel burst back into the vicinity. He did not hesitate.

Within a matter of seconds the metal chains were lashed around Azazel’s body, encircling his neck like a noose, bringing him down to his knees with a howl. 

‘Now Charles!’ Erik barked.

Charles did not need to be told twice. He dove into Azazel’s mind and _pulled_.

Azazel’s eyes bulged in their sockets for the briefest moment. Then he slumped forward, unconscious, held up solely by the metal chains that were looped around him.

Both Erik and Charles let out sighs of relief. 

‘I didn’t know if that would actually work,’ Charles admitted, breathing heavily.

‘I’m glad it did,’ Erik grunted, one eye still on Azazel’s unmoving form.

‘I’ll say.’ The both turned to see Detective MacTaggert standing there, gazing narrowly between the two of them. ‘So what happens now?’

Erik looked at Charles.

‘Now we go and find Sebastian Shaw,’ Charles said grimly, meeting his eyes. 

Moira watched them, her expression inscrutable. ‘Is Shaw a – does he have abilities too?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ Erik said shortly.

‘Care to elaborate on that?’

‘Well, we’re not exactly sure what he can do,’ Charles admitted. ‘So your guess is really as good as ours.’

‘He’s bound to be powerful, though,’ Moira said, folding her arms over her chest.

Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘Why yes, I should think that likely,’ he drawled.

Moira’s eyes narrowed. ‘Cut the bullshit, Xavier,’ she snapped. ‘We’re not in an interrogation room anymore. This is serious.’

‘Sorry, force of habit,’ Charles said, sounding only slightly apologetic. The lightness in his tone then dissipated as he turned to Erik. ‘We should go now,’ he said, quietly.

‘I’m coming too,’ Moira said at once, but Charles shook his head.

‘Not an option, I’m afraid,’ he said grimly. ‘Aside from the fact that you don’t have any powers to protect you from Shaw, we also need someone to stay here and watch our backs and make sure that we won’t be joined by any of Shaw’s reinforcements. Besides,’ he added when Moira’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re probably going to need to get on your radio – we’ll be needing reinforcements of our own. Or at least,’ he smiled humourlessly, ‘Someone to clear up the bodies.’

Moira met his eyes for a brief second and then she nodded slowly. ‘Alright,’ she said, her tone grim. ‘I suppose _someone_ needs to explain what’s happened here. Not that I’m entirely sure how I’ll do that. Just—’ she hesitated. ‘Just make sure that it’s the two of you who I next see coming out here, and not Shaw, okay?’

Charles gave her a dry smile. ‘We’ll try our best,’ he said. He paused and then, making up his mind, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small recording device. ‘Here,’ he said, carefully handing it over to her. ‘We have Shaw on tape acknowledging responsibility for the murders of Salvadore, McCoy and the others, as well as establishing a link to Creed.’ He hesitated. ‘What you hear … it may not make much sense …’

Moira raised an eyebrow. ‘Like how the rest of today hasn’t made sense?’

Charles smiled wryly. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Exactly like that.’ 

Moira nodded. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll … see what I can do with it.’

Charles gave her a brief smile. ‘Good,’ he said. He then nodded at where Azazel was sprawled on the ground, still wrapped in chains. ‘You okay to look after him?’

Moira glanced at Azazel and nodded. ‘It’ll be fine. He’s out, right?’

‘Yes,’ Charles said guardedly. ‘But keep an eye on him anyway. I have never encountered a mind like his before – I don’t know how long he will remain under.’

‘Noted,’ Moira said with a nod, before stepping back. She turned to glance briefly at the whitewashed walls of the mutant church. ‘You better go,’ she said, even as she adjusted her stance and tightened her grip on her gun. ‘I’ve got this.’

Charles gave her a quick smile. ‘I know,’ he said, before glancing at Erik. With a quick nod, they both turned and started walking over towards the church.

*****

The church was empty.

Charles and Erik shared a glance. 

‘He must be in here somewhere,’ Erik muttered, even as he scanned the area around him. ‘I didn’t see any rear exits, did you?’

‘No,’ Charles said, his brow furrowed in concentration. ‘But I didn’t see many places to hide, either.’

‘True.’ Erik looked grim. He gestured ahead with his gun. ‘Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t look anyway.’

Charles nodded, and together they moved forward, every sense on high alert. 

There was nothing. Somehow, Shaw had gone.

Charles lowered his gun, and let out a hissing breath. ‘Nothing,’ he said with disgust. He turned to Erik. ‘Do you think …’

‘That Azazel got to him before we subdued him?’ Erik’s jaw was tight. ‘I don’t know. I hope not, but I can’t be sure.’

‘He must have,’ Charles muttered, scanning the building again. ‘Because there is only one way out of here, and we were standing _right there_ —’ Charles suddenly paused.

‘What?’ Erik asked at once. ‘What is it?’

‘There’s only one way out of here,’ Charles repeated slowly, frowning. ‘At least – only one way that we can _see_ …’

Understanding dawned on Erik’s face. ‘You think there’s a secret exit,’ he said, glancing around at the church with new eyes.

Charles shrugged. ‘It makes sense,’ he said. ‘From what we know of Shaw, he’s not someone who goes into things without having a backup plan.’ He turned to Erik. ‘Before, you were searching for metal within the church,’ he said, leaning forward. ‘This time, try looking for it _outside_ … behind the walls, or underneath the ground.’

Erik nodded briefly and then his eyes flickered shut. A minute later his eyelids flew open, his expression triumphant. ‘Got it,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘There’s not much to grasp, but it’s there. Under the dais. Beneath the altar.’

Charles quickly moved towards the front of the church, casting his eyes over the ground. ‘I can’t see any obvious seam in the floor,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Or any sign of a mechanism anywhere … there’s just a plain wooden table on a plain wooden floor.’

‘Not so plain,’ Erik said grimly, before waving a hand and sending the altar skidding away, hauled back by the nails in the joins. Erik then stalked forward so that he stood opposite to Charles on the floor where the table had stood. ‘Now,’ he said. ‘Let’s see what’s beneath.’ Closing his eyes, he reached down with his powers and _pulled_ on the small metal cogs and wheels that he could feel buried underneath.

There was a whirring noise as the gears began to move. Then there was a groan and the floor abruptly seemed to give way.

‘Step back!’ Erik said sharply, taking a step backwards himself and looking keenly at the hole in the floor that had suddenly been revealed. 

‘Impressive,’ Charles said dispassionately, studying the hole. ‘But rather out of place in a church, don’t you think?’

Erik didn’t answer. ‘There’s stairs,’ he announced instead, peering carefully into the gloom. ‘It looks like it leads into a tunnel.’

‘An underground tunnel,’ Charles murmured, leaning in with a look of interest. ‘Curiouser and curiouser. Well then,’ he turned to Erik, his eyebrow arched. ‘What do you say? Shall we go take a look down the rabbit hole?’

‘Let’s,’ Erik agreed, and as one, they both gripped their guns and made their way down the steps and into the gloom below.

*****

Ten minutes later, they were still slowly navigating their way through the darkness. They had quickly found that the underground route was less of a tunnel and more of a series of interlocking caves that Shaw had made use of.

‘They seem to be largely natural,’ Charles had remarked, looking fascinated as he shone his torch on the craggy walls. He had luckily convinced Erik to add portable flashlights to their personal gear before setting off, and they had both been very glad of that fact upon descending into the gloom of the tunnel. ‘The caves have been widened in areas, and extended, but they seem to be a natural phenomenon. Shaw must have found this place and built Genosha on top for this very reason. You could do anything down here and no one would ever know where to look.’

‘He’s already done quite enough,’ Erik said darkly. He gazed ahead into the darkness, his forehead creased with concentration. His eyes narrowed when he saw something glint up ahead. ‘Charles,’ he said softly. ‘Turn off your torch.’

Charles frowned, pulling away from his study of the cavern walls. ‘What is it?’ he asked quietly even as he did as he was told.

Erik didn’t answer but just tapped the side of his head. 

Charles obliged. _What is it?_ he asked again.

 _I don’t know_ , Erik said, holding himself still. _But I think that there is light up ahead._

Charles craned his neck forward, squinting ahead. _You know, I do believe you are right_ , he said, his tone deceptively light. He glanced at Erik. _You’d better switch your torch off as well._

Erik nodded and did as suggested. In the immediate darkness that surrounded them, the faint glow from up ahead was easier to identify.

 _I can’t yet tell if it’s natural light or not_ , Charles said cautiously. _If it is, then it’s possible that the caves have opened up and Shaw might be gone. If the light **isn’t** natural, then …_

 _Then it’s likely that Shaw is somewhere up ahead, waiting for us_ , Erik finished for him. He raised his gun. _Let’s find out which one it is._

He moved forward and Charles followed after him.

The tunnels seemed to widen as they progressed, and the path appeared to get smoother, with more evidence of use. They moved slower now, more intent on making no noise, and when they came to the end of the path they stopped, pausing just outside the fringes of the light by unspoken consensus.

Erik glanced over at Charles and frowned when he saw him looking slightly pale. _What is it?_ he asked at once, concerned.

Charles shook his head. _I don’t like the feeling I’m getting from this cave, Erik,_ he said quietly, his eyes fixed ahead. _Maybe it’s just delayed claustrophobia, but this place makes me … unsettled. I don’t think that I’ll like what we find in there._

 _There’s something off about it_ , Erik agreed. He sniffed the air. _There’s traces of iron in the rock inside. Like a lot of blood has been spilt there._

There was a grim silence. Then Charles took a deep breath.

 _There’s no point dragging this out._ He turned to Erik. _You ready for this?_

Erik smiled grimly. _Let’s find out_ , he said. And together, they pushed forward into the light, their guns clasped firmly in their outstretched hands. 

The light, it turned out, was artificial.

While the tunnels and pathways had not been lit, this cavern – larger than any of the others that they had encountered – had been equipped with electric lighting, and the dim, yellowish light gave the cave an almost ominous feel to it.

Sebastian Shaw was standing in the centre. 

‘I see that my boys didn’t keep you long,’ he said with a sigh. He shook his head, the light glinting off the silver circlet that he still wore around his head. ‘How disappointing. I expected better of them.’

‘Give it up, Shaw,’ Erik snarled, moving forward with his gun held high. ‘We’re taking you in.’

Shaw inclined his head to the side. ‘Confident about that, are you?’ His eyes then trailed away from Erik and onto Charles, who was still studying the cavern even as he kept one eye on Shaw. ‘I see you are interested in our surroundings, Mr. Xavier. Perhaps you feel something of the sanctity of the place.’ He smiled and raised his arms. ‘Welcome to our holy temple, gentlemen. A place where only the strongest and the most devout are allowed to enter.’

‘A secret temple underneath a secret church,’ Charles mused, focusing the whole of his attention on Shaw. ‘I’m not sure that I see the necessity of that.’ His eyes then fell on the large stone slab that Shaw was standing beside and his eyes immediately narrowed. ‘On second thoughts,’ he said grimly. ‘Perhaps I _do_ see the need.’ He met Shaw’s eyes. ‘Not everyone responds well to a blood sacrifice, after all.’ 

‘Sadly not,’ Shaw sighed in agreement. ‘As I said, only the most _devoted_ of my followers are allowed here.’

‘This is no temple,’ Erik said darkly, having also sighted the stone table and immediately recognising its use. His eyes darted around the room, suddenly wary. ‘This is a _slaughterhouse_.’ 

‘It is a place of worship,’ Shaw said mildly, correcting him. ‘A place where we can revere the mutant form with no fear of hatred or recrimination.’

‘A place where you _kill_ people!’ Erik snarled. ‘Where you kill _mutants_. Say whatever you want about building a better world for mutants, you son of a bitch, dress it up however you like, but you are nothing better than a common _murderer_.’

Shaw regarded him for a minute. ‘Murderer?’ he repeated thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I suppose you are entitled to that. But _common_?’ He gave Erik a reproachful look. ‘You can hardly say _that_ , my boy.’

‘Careful,’ Charles murmured. ‘Your ego is showing, Mr. Shaw.’

Shaw turned his gaze on Charles. ‘Well, we all of us need _one_ weakness, don’t we, Mr. Xavier?’ he said genially. His eyes glinted. ‘Perhaps we ought to discuss the matter over a _drink_.’

Erik let out a hissed breath but Charles did not flinch away. ‘You’ve done your homework,’ he observed, no judgement in his tone. ‘But then, my fondness for alcohol isn’t exactly a secret.’ He cocked his head, regarding Shaw dispassionately. ‘You, however, Mr. Shaw … you have _quite a few_ secrets. And I will take very great pleasure in bringing them all out into the light.’

Shaw’s expression flickered then; the mask of geniality dropped for the barest second, replaced by an infuriated gnashing of the teeth. A second later it was gone, and Shaw was back to his old self. The change hadn’t gone unnoticed, though, and Charles and Erik exchanged a grim look of satisfaction.

Shaw considered them for a moment, the three of them momentarily at an impasse. Then he abruptly started to speak. ‘Tell me,’ he said pleasantly, ‘Are either one of you religious at all?’

‘Not this again,’ Erik growled. ‘We already told you – we have no interest in joining your cause, Shaw.’

Shaw sighed in mild exasperation and turned to Charles instead. ‘What about you, Mr. Xavier? I know you said that you didn’t believe in God, but tell me – were you at all religious at any point in your life?’

Charles hesitated. ‘No,’ he said at last, ignoring the way Erik’s nostrils flared. ‘I can’t say that I was.’

‘Hmm.’ Shaw studied him for a moment before speaking. ‘Well, you will be before the night is through.’

Erik and Charles exchanged a wary look. 

Shaw, however, was not finished. ‘Shall I tell you something about this place?’ he asked, gesturing at the cavern around him. ‘People rarely come here, so I don’t get to expound as often as I would like. The place is something of a second home to me, you see.’ He turned around to face Charles and Erik once again. ‘It may not be quite so luxurious as the places that I am accustomed to, but there is an _atmosphere_ here that really gets the blood pumping in my veins.’ His eyes dipped down to the stone table and his smile abruptly widened into something dark and uncomfortable. ‘Do you want to know the most interesting thing, my friends?’ he said, his voice almost a whisper, his expression very close to reverent. ‘This stone altar that you see – this table where the blood of our brothers and sisters has flowed freely – this altar was _already here_ when I found it all those decades ago. I wasn’t the one who built it here.’ He raised his eyes, fervent, to Erik and Charles. ‘Which makes me wonder … maybe me and mine weren’t the first ones to come to this place and worship. Maybe there were others before us. Who knows the things that were done in this place … what gods were worshipped, what rites were performed.’ He ran a slow, caressing hand over the table’s surface. ‘There is a reason that I call this place a temple, boys, and the reason isn’t merely personal hubris.’

‘You can’t know that it was an altar,’ Erik snarled. ‘Stop trying to justify your bloodlust, Shaw. Any blood that was spilt here was done by _your_ hand.’

Shaw raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you think so?’ he mused. ‘Well – perhaps you cannot feel it as I can. The … _spirituality_ of this place. Perhaps only those who are attuned can feel it.’

Charles frowned and shook his head, trying to clear it. Shaw’s words seemed to give the cavern a darker feel to it; there was an eerie tone present in the air, as if the veil of the world were drawing thin.

Shaw was watching him. ‘Is everything alright, Mr. Xavier?’ he asked solicitously.

‘It’s fine,’ Charles snapped. Really, he added, when Erik turned a concerned glance his way. _Like I said, it’s probably just mild claustrophobia._

Erik gave him a short nod before turning away. Shaw, however, was still watching him.

‘You know, Emma didn’t like this place either,’ he said reflectively, looking at Charles almost curiously. ‘I brought her here just once, right at the start, before we built Genosha and started using this place for our purposes. She stayed here five minutes and then left, vowing never to return again.’ He paused, cocking his head to the side. ‘I always did wonder what it was that she felt in here.’

‘Keep wondering,’ Erik snarled. ‘Now – get down on your knees, Shaw. We’re taking you in.’

Shaw let out a sudden laugh. ‘ _Taking me in?_ ’ He stared at them in something like wonder. ‘Gentlemen – really? That’s _still_ your plan? Even now?’ When neither of them spoke, he shook his head almost pityingly. ‘Is that _really_ what you intend to do? To lock me up? In a _human_ prison?’ He laughed again, and rubbed the moisture from his eye. ‘I wish you luck, my friends, but – tell me – do you _really_ think that the humans will be able to keep locked away? Do you really think them _capable_ of it?’

Erik’s jaw tightened. ‘I said _get on your knees_ ,’ he snarled, moving forward and pointing his gun ahead. ‘Stand down, Shaw.’

Shaw sighed. ‘Are you _sure_ that I can’t convince you boys to join me?’ he asked, still not moving.

Both Erik and Charles looked back at him with stony expressions.

Shaw sighed. ‘I would have had you both as witnesses to my journey,’ he said ruefully, stepping back and raising his arms even as Charles and Erik both jerked their guns forward and shouted for him to stop. ‘Oh, it would have been glorious, the world of men crumbling and brought low by our hands.’ He looked back at them, his eyes alight with fervour and his grin stretched wide over his unnaturally-young skin. ‘Oh, my boys, what I will do to all the sons and daughters of man …’ His hands began to glow.

_Bang!_

There was a cacophony of noise as both Erik and Charles pulled the triggers of their guns, the blast of bullets firing echoing noisily all through the cavern.

Shaw laughed. In front of him lay a pair of twisted, half-melted bullets; Shaw himself was unharmed. 

‘Again,’ Erik barked. 

Both he and Charles fired again – non-stop this time – until every bullet in their guns’ chambers were emptied. 

Shaw stood watching them reprovingly, without a hair out of place. 

‘Are you quite finished?’ he asked lightly. 

‘Not even a little,’ Erik snarled. Slowly, the metal from the gun in his hand melted, fusing with a coil of iron that he had wrapped around his arm, and reformed itself into a long metal bar. Erik took a step closer. ‘I will make you pay for every drop of mutant blood that you’ve shed, I promise you,’ he vowed.

Shaw beamed at him with pride and, watching him approach, slowly raised his arms in welcome. ‘I am not ashamed,’ he said kindly, before reaching forward. ‘Come die at my hand, my son.’

Erik growled low in his throat and pushed forward, his body taut and his arm flexed. 

‘Erik!’ Charles called sharply, but Erik did not stop.

 _Stand back_ , Charles, he said, even as he raised the bar overhead. _Without use of your telepathy you are powerless. Let me handle this._

 _Like hell_ , Charles snarled, hurrying to reload his gun, but it was too late; Erik was already in front of Shaw, and had raised the bar as if to plunge it through his chest—

_Crash!_

The sound reverberated outwards as both Erik and the steel bar were hurled away from Shaw, throwing them back into the wall of the cave with tremendous force. 

‘Erik!’ Charles looked at him in alarm.

‘Don’t worry,’ Shaw sounded amused, and not the least bit fazed. ‘I didn’t put too much energy into it. He shouldn’t be _too_ badly hurt … maybe just a concussion and few fractured ribs.’

Charles faced him, looking wary. His eyes darted first to Erik, who groaned even as he lay still on the floor, before flickering over Shaw’s calm, unruffled form.

Shaw smiled. ‘You are not so impulsive as your partner, I see,’ he said approvingly. ‘That is good. Perhaps you will give more thought to my offer of brotherhood than your partner did.’

‘I’m not sure that giving your offer more thought will make it any more favourable,’ Charles said bluntly, taking a cautious step backwards as Shaw came forward. ‘Somehow, I don’t think that aligning ourselves with a mass murderer is a particularly bright idea.’

Shaw sighed. ‘This again,’ he said reproachfully. ‘I thought you at least would understand my vision. The loss of our mutant brothers and sisters is regrettable, Mr. Xavier, but it is nevertheless only short-term – a tiny drop in the ocean compared to what we might otherwise face. The long-term … _that_ is where we will reap the rewards. With my guidance, mutants will emerge not to fear and hate and slaughter, but to a new world, where they will be revered and worshipped.’ A manic glint entered Shaw’s eyes. ‘Join me, Charles! Join me and we will usher in a new age, one where the strong will rule and our people will be free!’

Charles watched him, expressionless. ‘Do you think you are the first person to think like this?’ he asked quietly. ‘That you are the only person who has ever tried to rule by murdering those who oppose him and subjugating the weak?’ He shook his head. ‘History has given us more than our fair share of those, Mr. Shaw. You say that you act now out of a desire to save lives, to save mutantkind, but really? You are no different from any one of those tyrants – those _humans_ – in our history books.’

Shaw’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘You are wrong,’ he said with barely concealed ire. ‘No one else knows what I do, or can do what I can.’ He gestured around at the cavern and the stone table. ‘I have found the way, I have seen the path that I must follow, and I know what must be done. My plans have been _decades_ in the making, Mr. Xavier. The world is going to change very soon, and no one will have seen it coming, and no one can stop me.’

Charles simply shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that, you know,’ he said calmly, even as he inched backwards, towards Erik. ‘It’s like I said – you are not the first person who has ever thought this way. Throughout history old men have always said the same thing. But then old men die and the world keeps on turning.’

Shaw’s eyes were cold. ‘Ah, but therein lies the difference,’ he said softly. He raised his arms and smiled. ‘I am no ordinary man.’ And then Charles barely had time to move before a blinding flash of light emitted from Shaw’s hands and blasted the stone floor where he had last been standing. 

‘Shit,’ Charles cursed under his breath and threw himself behind a curving wall of the cavern, deliberately angling away from where Erik was now struggling upwards to his knees, so as to take the attention away from him. He then tightened his grip on his gun, even as he knew that bullets wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference, and taking a deep breath, he shoved himself out of his shallow enclosure and started to fire.

 _Get yourself up, Erik_ , he said, his teeth gritted, even as his bullets fell harmlessly to the floor in front of Shaw. _You’re a sitting duck right now, and I can only distract Shaw for so long before I run out of bullets._

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Erik nod groggily before determinedly pushing himself to his feet. Then Charles didn’t have any more attention to spare as Shaw was suddenly upon him, looking vaguely irritated.

‘I must say,’ he said as Charles fired off the last few rounds of his gun, his heart beating fast. ‘I can’t help but be disappointed. I expected much more from the two of you. _Bullets_ , Charles?’ He shook his head. ‘You do not even have the courtesy to try to kill me through your mutations?’ He sighed. ‘But then perhaps that is not your fault. You are, after all, a telepath, are you not, and I have made myself immune to your kind.’

Before Charles had a chance to parse these words, Shaw whipped his hand out, catching Charles’s left shoulder. The movement was barely a tap; yet Charles found himself letting out a shout of agony as he felt the bone inside _crack_ , sending bolts of excruciating pain through him.

‘Oh dear,’ Shaw surveyed him with false sympathy. ‘Did I hurt you, Mr. Xavier? How unfortunate.’

Charles gritted his teeth and, with wrenching determination, straightened up and forced himself into a boxing stance, his left arm braced low against his stomach even as it screamed in protest.

Shaw laughed in something like delight. ‘ _Fists?_ ’ he said gleefully. ‘You fight me with _fists_? And here I thought you were the bright one of the pair of you, Mr. Xavier. If your bullets cannot harm me, then what can your fists do?’

Charles gritted his teeth. ‘Let’s find out,’ he said, and raising his right fist, he abruptly delivered a sharp uppercut to Shaw’s face. 

Shaw hadn’t seemed to have expected that, for he staggered back a pace, his circlet askew and his teeth bared in surprise. He recovered quickly, however, for at the next punch that Charles threw in his direction, he jerked aside and, before Charles could retrieve his hand, Shaw caught the fist in one of his own. 

‘That wasn’t very polite, Mr. Xavier,’ he said through gritted teeth, even as he squeezed down on Charles’s hand. Pain lanced through Charles’s arm as he futilely tried to retrieve it from Shaw’s grasp, letting out a shout of pain as he felt delicate bones crack. ‘I wouldn’t—’

There was a roar from behind as ropes of metal lashed themselves around Shaw’s neck and _yanked_ , pulling him backwards. 

Charles swallowed a scream of pain as he too was pulled forwards, Shaw’s grip on his fist unrelenting. 

_Charles, get away from him!_ he heard Erik say urgently. 

_I’m trying_ , Charles said, even as he scrabbled to clasp hold of the knife at his belt with his left hand. _But I can’t just—_ He suddenly paused, a wide-eyed look coming over his face, his pain momentarily forgotten. _Erik!_ His words tumbled through him, suddenly urgent. _Erik, I can **feel** him! He’s not immune to telepathy, Erik, he must have something that—_ There was an intake of breath as his Charles’s eyes fell upon Shaw’s brow, where he had struck him with his now crushed fist. _Erik, the circlet, you must remove the circ—_

But Shaw must have felt something of Charles’s pain-hazed mind brushing against his, for suddenly he abandoned the metal coiling about his neck and abruptly refocused on Charles, his lips curled into a snarl. His eyes fell on the knife that Charles had managed to fish out of his belt and before Charles could react, he had snatched it up and—

‘NO!’ Erik’s voice rung with horror as the knife plunged forward into Charles’s gut, burying itself right up to the hilt. 

Charles looked down numbly at the knife protruding from his stomach. A groan passing his lips; a few drops of blood followed. Then Shaw released him and he fell back, crashing to the floor limply.

‘ _Charles!_ ’ Erik’s voice was full of anger and grief, and with a roar he flung himself at Shaw, squeezing the metal bands around his neck even as he leapt at him, raining down ineffective blows on Shaw’s chest. 

At first it seemed to work; Shaw clutched at his throat almost in panic, but then reason seemed to return to him and, picking Erik off him with a snarl, he raised him up with inhuman strength and hurled him down on the stone table. 

Erik’s body almost seemed to bounce on the surface; his back took the brunt of the blow, but his head had snapped down hard on the rock, causing him to momentarily black out seconds before the pain from the effect of his knee snapping backwards could do the same. 

Shaw looked around him at the two fallen men and laughed. ‘Is that all?’ he asked in disappointment. ‘All this time, gentlemen – all those years. And this is what it has all built up to?’ He shook his head. ‘What a waste.’

 _Erik_ , Charles’s voice was fogged by pain but it was calm, lucid. _Erik, can you hear me?_ There was a pause. _Erik, I am going to dull the pain receptors in your brain, do you understand? You need to get up – we need to stop this._

 _Charles?_ Erik’s voice sounded fuzzy. _Charles, you were – how are you …?_

 _Kevlar_ , Charles said grimly. _It didn’t stop all of the damage but it got the worst of it. I’ll live, I hope. Unless things go badly wrong._ He paused. _Do you remember what I said about Shaw? About the circlet he wears?_

There was a pause. Then Erik’s voice returned, suddenly clearer. _Yes_ , he said. _Yes. You can stop him. If I remove it from his head._

 _Yes._ There was a pause as a shiver of pain ran up Charles’s spine. _I can. But it must be done quickly, before Shaw realises anything is amiss. Quickly, Erik._

Erik let out a shudder as he realised the askew angle at which his right leg lay, but he ignored it and slowly began to push himself up on his arms. _Yes_ , he said, as a drop of blood streamed down from his nose. _Now. I’ll do it now. Be ready, Charles._

_I’m ready._

Erik reached out with one straining hand, and _pushed_.

The metal coils that he had used to encircle Shaw’s neck reared up from the ground. Shaw, who was slowly approaching the spot where Charles lay, did not notice them. He came to a stop in front of him and, slowly bending down, he pulled Charles up with one large hand around the neck, raising him with superhuman strength so that they were at eye-level, despite Charles’s eyes remaining closed.

Shaw opened his mouth to speak.

Then the metal coils whipped forward and, before Shaw knew what was happening, they had looped themselves around the silver circlet that lay on his head, and they _pulled_.

_Now, Charles!_

Charles’s eyes flew open. In a flash he was pushing into Shaw’s mind, the way now clear from interference, and surging through his mind, desperate to find the burning, crackling heart of his powers. 

It took no more than a few seconds. Charles had barely managed to tie off the brain’s access to the powers when Shaw let out a roar, and suddenly, Charles felt himself colliding against the wall, his head smashed into the hard rocky surface with a _crunch_ – _again_ and _again_ and _again_.

A vague, disconnected part of him knew that if he hadn’t succeeded in cutting off Shaw’s access to his powers, then he would have certainly been dead by this point. As it was, Shaw’s human strength seemed likely to do the job.

All of a sudden he was released, and he felt himself sliding down, limp like a ragdoll, to the cold hard floor.

He lay there, dazed, blackness threatening to overwhelm him. He could hear the sounds of a struggle from beyond, muffled as if from far away. A streak of blood ran down his temple and he knew that he would have to get up; he knew that if he passed out, then Shaw’s powers would likely return, his hold on them unravelling without his power to back it up, and then both he and Erik would be dead in minutes. Dazed, and fighting against unconsciousness, Charles struggled to raise his head and push himself up on his hands.

His bruised eyes then focused on the sight before him, and he let out a hissed, stinging breath: Shaw, still uninjured even if powerless, was on top of a bruised and battered Erik, his hands gripping his throat, his thumbs digging in and his teeth bared, as he went about trying to squeeze the life out of Erik.

‘No,’ Charles whispered. Then, despite the fact that his body groaned in protest and he could barely think straight, he raised his hand to his temple and forced himself back into Shaw’s mind. _Stop._

Immediately, Shaw went still. He sat frozen atop Erik, who snarled and struggled his way out of Shaw’s grasp and sat back, gasping for breath and looking disorientated.

‘Erik,’ Charles gasped out, feeling the blackness beginning to overwhelm him again. ‘Erik, you need to secure him. You need to get hold of him now, before he gets free.’ Still Erik did not seem to respond. Charles’s voice cracked. ‘Erik – Erik, I don’t have much _time_.’

That seemed to get Erik’s attention. He looked up sharply, the mist disappearing from his eyes as he focused on Charles, and sudden panic flaring in them instead. He made a motion as if to move towards Charles, but Charles held up a broken hand to stop him. ‘No,’ he said, coughing, blood speckling his lips. ‘Shaw. You must secure Shaw.’

Erik’s attention abruptly snapped to Shaw, who was still sitting as still as a statue, his face a mask of anger and hate. Erik blinked once, very slowly, and then once more, seeming to get his bearings. Then, very calmly, he reached out with one shaking, empty hand.

A long, thin scrap of metal flew into his hands. As Charles watched, the metal elongated into something long, smooth, and incredibly sharp.

‘No,’ Charles whispered. He clutched at his stomach, where the blood was soaking into the Kevlar vest and his shirt, and was dripping out around him. ‘Erik – Erik no.’

Erik did not look up. He simply dragged himself, gritting his teeth in pain, towards Shaw, who was sitting unnaturally still, watching his approach with eyes that reflected sudden panic.

‘Erik,’ Charles panted, clutching one bloodied hand to his stomach as Erik finally reached Shaw and wrapped one arm around his chest from behind. ‘No – you are not that man, Erik. You are better than that. Don’t do this – be the better man, Erik!’

Erik looked up. He appeared pained and exhausted, but there was no hesitation in his eyes. He merely looked resigned. ‘Perhaps the world needs bad men, Charles,’ he said quietly. ‘Maybe that’s what it takes to keep the other bad men from the door.’

And then – before Charles could say anything further – he abruptly brought the newly-forged knife up to Shaw’s neck and, pulling Shaw’s chin upwards, he drew a line swift and deep and true through the flesh of his throat.

‘No,’ Charles whispered, his own throat suddenly seizing up, and he felt himself falling backwards as black spots appeared in front of his eyes, his mind fraying as Shaw’s mind howled in anguish and attempted to pull him down, down, down with it. 

‘Charles!’

He struggled, his mind wrestling with the blackness even as his body lay still, bathed in a pool of its own blood, but it was futile – Shaw’s death had dragged him in and now the blackness wouldn’t let go. Shaw’s blood-drenched temple had another victim and it wouldn’t give him up, it wouldn’t release him, wouldn’t free him—

_Charles!_

And then suddenly the blackness was gone and Charles was weightless, floating in a sea of calm as the heavens opened wide above him, awesome and endless and all-encompassing. For a moment – for one small sliver of a moment – he could see it all: the stars, the world, the minds of hundreds of thousands of people all around him. But then he was plunging back down to earth, back into his body and the last thing he heard was Erik weakly calling his name – ‘ _Charles_ ’ – and then there was a flash of blue coming nearer, nearer, nearer, and then everything stopped and Charles was gone.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at last! Thank you to everyone who read this and kept me motivated along the way - it may have taken a while, but we are finally at the end! Thanks for the company, I hope you enjoy it! xx :D

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Eyelashes flickered.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The noise hurt. In fact, everything hurt – his face, his throat, his legs, his entire body.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Water_ , came the thought. _I need water._

There was a movement and then a glass with a straw in it appeared before him. Gratefully, he took a sip.

‘You know,’ a voice said reflectively (young, female, _familiar_ , a vague, distant part of his brain remarked). ‘You have a lot of nerve, doing what you did.’

Charles stirred, trying to pry his eyelids apart to see who it was. The brightness of the light soon had him shutting his eyes again in a hurry. 

There was a sigh. ‘Wait, I’ll close the blinds.’ There was a rustle of movement, and then Charles felt the world behind his eyelids grow a little dimmer. He took a deep breath and, fighting against the muzziness in his head, he forced his eyes open a fraction. 

Raven was sitting in front of him.

She saw him looking at her and she gave him a watery smile. ‘Hello, Charles.’

‘Ra—’ he tried to speak but his throat was sore and tight. _Raven_ , he said instead. _You’re here._

There was a slightly anxious flicker in her eyes as Charles’s voice brushed her mind, but after a moment Raven’s smile grew less strained and she reached forward to touch his arm. ‘I am,’ she said quietly. ‘Of course I am.’

Charles felt his eyes flutter shut with a combination of relief and bone-deep exhaustion but he forced them open again and tried his best to formulate a coherent sentence in his head. _Erik. Where’s Erik?_

Raven looked completely unsurprised by this line of questioning. ‘You asked me this the _last_ time you woke up,’ she said dryly. ‘ _And_ the previous time too. He’s fine, Charles. Well – not _fine_ , but he’s recovering.’ She gave him a look. ‘He’s in better shape than _you_ , for a start. I’m sure he’ll come by soon, especially when he knows that you’re properly awake. The nurses have had their hands full, trying to keep him away.’

Charles felt another wave of relief overcome him. _How long has it been?_ he asked.

‘A few days,’ Raven said quietly. ‘You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the last twenty-four hours, but this is the first time you’ve been anywhere near this coherent.’ She paused. ‘Hopefully you’re actually going to remember talking to me this time.’

Charles briefly considered making an attempt to recall any previous moments of lucidity. A second later, he realised that he really didn’t feel like he could handle the strain on his faculties just then, so he changed the subject. _When did you get here?_ he asked instead.

Raven’s eyebrows rose at that. ‘You don’t remember, then?’ She snorted when Charles carefully shook his head. ‘I guess I can’t be _too_ surprised. You were bleeding out all over the cavern floor by that point, after all.’

Charles’s frown deepened. _What? I don’t understand_ , he said, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over him. _**You?** You came there? You were **there**?_

Raven’s expression softened. ‘You called me, Charles,’ she said quietly. ‘You said—’ her voice caught in her throat ‘—you said _goodbye_.’

Charles closed his eyes. ‘I thought—’ his voice was croaky. He cleared his throat. ‘I thought that I wouldn’t get out a— that I wouldn’t _get out_.’ 

Raven had turned her face away, but Charles could still see the way that her chest rose and fell quickly as if she was having trouble suppressing some great emotion. When she next spoke it was almost in a whisper. ‘You’re such a bastard,’ she said, her voice tight. ‘A stupid, stupid _bastard_.’

_I know._

‘And you’re such a _hypocrite_!’ She turned on him, her eyes flashing. ‘All that talk when we were younger about how this sort of thing was too dangerous – about how I was too headstrong and too much of a loose canon to get into police work … How you needed to be _logical_ and not get emotionally attached, how easy it was to get _killed_ in the line of duty … Were those all just _words_ , Charles? Words to tell _me_?’

Charles closed his eyes. _No_ , he said. _No._

A sound by the door caused them both to look up. At the entrance was a nurse, who narrowed her eyes at Raven, clearly not pleased to see her distressing her patient.

Raven swallowed and turned away. She waited until the nurse had gone before she spoke again. ‘You could have died.’ Her voice was quiet, and she now sounded exhausted rather than on the verge of angry tears. ‘You could have died and we would never have … after the way we left things …’

_I know._ Charles wished that he had the strength to reach out and touch her. _I know, Raven. I know. It’s … it’s why I called._

‘And it’s why I came,’ Raven said, looking up fiercely. ‘ _Someone_ needed to have your back.’

_Erik—_

‘We both know that Erik is as bad as you are,’ Raven said, shaking her head. ‘Neither one of you knows when to stop. You both just drive each other further.’ She paused. ‘I knew that it was unhealthy, but I never realised how dangerous a thing that could be till now.’

Charles couldn’t deny it. ‘You came,’ he said instead, his voice rough. ‘You came when I needed you.’ Charles watched as Raven ducked her head. ‘You don’t know how grateful I am.’

Raven smiled then, and reached out tentatively to once again brush her fingers against his arm. ‘You’re my brother,’ was all she said.

Charles glanced at her and pressed his skin closer to hers. _How did you get there anyway?_ he asked, not trusting himself to talk out loud. _And so soon?_

Raven’s eyes gleamed at that. ‘Helicopter,’ she said briskly. ‘One of the perks of private security.’ She then glanced down at her knees. ‘It’s not the only one either.’ 

Charles could feel the need for sleep pressing at him, but even so he could sense that she wanted to him to probe further. Forcing himself to remain alert, he took the bait. _How so?_ he asked.

Raven leaned forward, looking eager. ‘My job … it’s a bit _more_ than private security. It’s … more _covert_.’ She met his eyes in a proud, unwavering gaze. ‘I work with mutants, Charles,’ she said, refusing to look away even as he stared at her in surprise. ‘My team is made up entirely of mutants. It’s—’ she took a deep breath as if she wanted to say more, but then she simply shook her head. ‘It’s everything I’ve ever wanted,’ she said honestly.

Charles looked at her. A dozen questions and concerns immediately ran through his head. In the end, however, he spoke none of them. _I’m glad_ , he murmured instead, smiling slightly. _It sounds … it sounds **wonderful**._

Raven nodded, looking relieved. ‘It is,’ she said, her shoulders relaxing. ‘It’s also useful, especially in situations like yours. You don’t need to worry about what to expect when you get out of here, by the way,’ she added. ‘We took the teleporter and the wind guy into our custody and we cleared up the crime scene before the police arrived. Well,’ she amended. ‘Before the _other_ police arrived. Detective MacTaggert seemed to have pieced most of it together by the time we got there.’ She raised an eyebrow at Charles. ‘She says she’s still waiting for you to give her the big explanation, though.’

Charles stifled a yawn. _She’s … she’s entitled_ , he admitted, even as he felt his eyelids droop downwards with irresistible heaviness.

Raven watched him expressionlessly. Then her face gentled. ‘Go back to sleep Charles,’ she said softly. _Maybe this time you won’t forget what I’ve told you_ , she added wryly.

_I’ve never forgotten you_ , Charles murmured, holding back a yawn as sleep crept up on him once more.

Raven didn’t say anything, but after a pause a gentle hand brushed against his bandaged forehead.

Charles, however, was already fast asleep.

*****

When he awoke several hours later, feeling much more awake and alert, he found that he still had company. The person in the hospital room, however, was not Raven.

‘You’re up then,’ Moira observed, eyeing him from her seat by his bedside. ‘I was wondering if you would be before visiting hours ended.’

Charles stirred himself, turning to her with pale imitation of his usual charming smile. ‘Detective MacTaggert,’ he said, wincing when his voice came out in a rasp. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’

Moira rolled her eyes. ‘That will be _quite_ enough of that, Xavier,’ she said, though there was a note of amusement in her voice. ‘And please – after all this time? It’s Moira.’

‘Then it’s Charles, too,’ Charles said, smiling. He paused. ‘Detective Levine can still call me Mr. Xavier, though.’

Moira gave him a look that was surprisingly more indulgent than reproachful. ‘After what happened? I’m sure he’ll be calling you a heck of a lot worse.’ She paused. ‘That was some shit you and Lehnsherr pulled, Charles.’

Charles grimaced. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘It was.’ He gave her a wan smile. ‘How is your partner anyway?’

Moira sighed and leaned back into her seat. ‘Not happy,’ she said dryly. ‘As I’m sure you can imagine. He’s nowhere near as bad as you or Lehnsherr, but he still managed to come out of things with a busted ankle and a broken rib … not to mention a concussion, which actually might come in handy for you guys. He can’t remember very much of what happened – he got knocked out pretty soon after we got there, so he didn’t get the _full_ impact of all the … of _everything_ , but he knows that something weird went down.’ She paused. ‘He’s not saying anything, though. Not yet, at any rate.’

‘You convinced him?’ Charles asked with a raised eyebrow.

Moira smiled. ‘Some. Frankly I didn’t have the energy to come up with some bullshit story about why there was a guy who looked like a devil disappearing and reappearing in a puff of smoke, so I just told him the truth.’ She met Charles’s eyes. ‘I told him that no one was going to believe the shit that just went down so he and I better get our stories straight so that we weren’t laughed out of the force.’

Charles grinned. ‘Practical,’ he said appreciatively.

Moira snorted. ‘The fact that we’ll probably get a promotion for the Shaw takedown might have also helped,’ she said dryly. She shook her head. ‘Feels wrong though. We hardly did anything – it was you and Lehnsherr who really did all the work.’

Charles shrugged, and then bit back a shout as the motion sent several different bolts of pain through him. When he opened his eyes, Moira was standing over him, looking worried.

‘It’s okay,’ Charles panted, his eyes watering. ‘I’m – I’m fine.’

Moira didn’t look convinced, but she settled back into her chair, watching him with concern. ‘He sure did a number on you, didn’t he?’ she said, her eyes tracing over him from his heavily bandaged head to his bruised throat, his arm cast, and taped-up fingers. The rest of him was covered by a pristine white blanket. Her eyes then returned to Charles’s face. ‘You nearly died,’ she said softly.

‘But I didn’t,’ Charles said, calm again. ‘Shaw did, but we didn’t. I’d say that was a win.’

‘Hmm,’ Moira watched him closely. ‘You should probably thank your sister for that, you know. The not-dying, I mean. If she hadn’t got there …’

‘Yes,’ Charles said. ‘I know.’

‘Interesting lady, your sister,’ Moira continued, sounding thoughtful. ‘I’m still not entirely sure what she does—’

‘Neither am I,’ Charles said dryly.

‘But whatever it is, I’d say she does impressive work.’ She paused. When she next spoke, her voice was oddly casual. ‘She’s invited me to become a part of it.’

Charles blinked. ‘Oh?’

‘Yes,’ Moira was smiling now. ‘She said that I might be interested in the sort of cases they take on.’

‘Well,’ Charles said after a pause. ‘If you ever need a referral …’

The smile Moira gave him – though not wide – was nevertheless the most genuine that he had ever seen her give. ‘Good to know,’ she said.

‘My pleasure,’ Charles said. Then, since he couldn’t help himself, ‘Anything to get you a new partner.’

Moira glared at him, but the expression was marred by the smile that tugged at her lips. ‘Watch yourself, Xavier,’ she cautioned. ‘And don’t think I’ve forgotten your promise. You owe me a _massive_ explanation for everything, and I intend to collect.’ She paused, glancing at him and the blinking machines around him. ‘Maybe when you’re out of here,’ she said, softening her words with a quick smile. ‘And when you don’t sound like you’ve had a ton of sawdust poured down your throat.’

Charles grimaced. ‘I appreciate that,’ he said.

Moira nodded. ‘I’d better go,’ she said, rising from her seat. She shrugged at Charles’s look. ‘Station’s been busy these past few days. Apparently some bigshot Mayor turned out to be psychopathic serial killer and now we’ve got a few decades worth of case files to dig through and pin on him.’

Charles let out a deep, long-held breath. ‘Well then,’ he said lightly. ‘You should probably get to it.’

Moira gave him a knowing look, but she said nothing. ‘Get some rest, Charles,’ she said instead, raising a hand in farewell. ‘I will be by again at some point.’ She paused, suddenly uncertain after everything. ‘That is – if you would like me to.’

The smile Charles gave her was sincere and free from his usual condenscion. ‘Yes, Detective,’ he said softly. ‘I would like that very much.’

Moira smiled, the wrinkle of concern on her forehead disappearing. ‘Goodbye, Charles,’ she said and with a final wave, and stepped through the door.

_Goodbye, Moira_ , Charles murmured, closing his eyes, and he smiled when, half a corridor down, he felt Moira jump.

 

**

*

**

 

Charles’s final visitor arrived later that evening. 

Charles had been dozing lightly in his bed when the sound of the ward room door being opened caused him to stir. He sent out a tendril of telepathy and then smiled when he realised who had come in.

‘I was wondering when you would be along,’ he murmured without opening his eyes.

There was a grunt as a pair of crutches was thrown down on the floor and someone carefully seated themselves in the chair by the bed. 

‘Heard you were finally awake,’ Erik grunted, wincing as he leaned back in his seat. ‘You took your time.’

‘Hmm,’ Charles agreed. ‘I hope you weren’t too worried.’ He opened an eye when Erik didn’t say anything. ‘I heard that you were giving the nurses trouble, trying to get in to see me. I’m actually rather surprised you didn’t come earlier.’

Erik muttered something under his breath. 

‘What was that?’

‘I said that the nurses drugged me,’ Erik said grumpily, scowling at the dawning mirth on Charles’s face. ‘They were fed up of me.’

Charles felt a laugh spill out of him, and he immediately regretted it when _everything_ started to hurt all at once.

Erik was over him in an instant, his own injuries forgotten. ‘Charles – are you alright?’

_Yes, yes_ , Charles forced his breaths to come slower, easing the tightness across his chest. _I’ll be fine._

Erik didn’t look convinced. He kept a sharp eye on Charles as he lowered himself back into his chair. His eyes traced slowly across Charles’s features; he remained expressionless as he took in Charles’s bandaged head, the dark swollen eyes, the purpled cheeks, and – his expression darkened – the still-lingering bruises around his throat. ‘You look like shit,’ he said bluntly, scowling again.

Charles let out a soft snort. ‘You don’t look so great yourself,’ he said dryly. 

Erik raised his hand gingerly to his still-bruised face, and then shrugged. ‘At least I’m mobile,’ he said, looking pointedly at Charles’s bedridden form. ‘They’re going to check me out in a day or two. If I don’t do it any sooner myself.’

‘So impatient,’ Charles murmured, smiling slightly. ‘We need to work on that.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘We?’

Charles closed his eyes.

There was a pause.

Erik sighed. When he next spoke, his voice was subdued. ‘I saw Raven,’ he said quietly.

‘Yes,’ Charles said. ‘I thought you must have.’

‘She looks well.’

‘I thought so too.’ 

Erik paused. ‘She told you about what happened?’ he asked after a beat.

Charles opened his eyes. ‘She did.’

‘We owe her.’ Erik glanced quickly at Charles and then away. ‘For clearing things up. Back at Genosha. Without her … without her things may not have ended so well. For either of us.’

‘No,’ Charles agreed. ‘I would be dead and you would be in prison.’

Erik grimaced and looked down. When he glanced back up, he found that Charles was watching him.

‘You killed Shaw,’ he said softly.

Erik grimaced but he did not drop his gaze. ‘It was the only way,’ he said, raising his chin in determination. ‘It was the only solution, Charles. You know that.’

Charles looked away. ‘Do I?’ he said quietly. He shook his head. ‘Perhaps I do. Perhaps you’re right. I don’t know anymore.’ He sounded exhausted.

Erik eyed him warily. He waited for Charles to continue, but when the silence continued, he finally dropped his eyes and sighed. ‘It wasn’t planned, if that’s what you were thinking,’ he said haltingly. ‘I didn’t go in knowing that I was going to – that things would end the way that they did.’ He ran a tired hand through his hair. ‘I just … we had to stop him and we had to get out alive, and the only way that I could think of to make that happen was to – to do what I did. I couldn’t see any other option, Charles. I couldn’t see any other way … There was just no other way.’

Charles remained silent. He didn’t speak; he simply stared out of the window. When he at last turned back and met Erik’s eyes, he looked tired. ‘I know,’ he said, sounding resigned. ‘I think – I think I’m beginning to understand that now.’

Erik drew back. He stared at Charles in surprise. 

Charles, seeing his expression, gave him a wan smile. ‘I’m not _entirely_ naïve, Erik,’ he said wryly. ‘In the end it was us or Shaw, and however much I may hate what happened …’ He shook his head. ‘Maybe it’s because I’m still suffering the effects of concussion, but I can’t find it in myself to regret what happened. All I know is that I am terribly glad that we made it out of there, and that, out of the three of us, that we’re the ones who are still alive, and not him.’ He paused then and sighed. ‘If I’m being truly honest with myself, _that’s_ what I am having trouble reconciling, more than anything else.’

Erik’s expression softened. He moved closer. ‘It’s only natural,’ he said quietly, allowing his fingers to brush reassuringly against Charles’s arm. ‘I don’t think that anyone could call you selfish for that.’ He paused. ‘And, just for the record, I’m glad that it’s the two of us who are alive as well.’

Charles snorted at that, wincing as it made his chest tighten painfully. ‘Good to know,’ he said, grimacing. He then shook his head. ‘It’s not just that though, you know,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve been thinking things over … I’ve been going over it all in my head ever since I woke up, and in truth—’ He hesitated. ‘In truth, I’m not entirely sure whether my reluctance to see Shaw dead stemmed _completely_ from a point of principle, or … or if I simply didn’t want you to have to carry the burden of having blood on your hands again.’ He met Erik’s eyes. ‘It was bad enough that you had to take on Creed. I didn’t want that for you ever again.’

‘It’s a burden that I was always willing to carry,’ Erik said quietly, not looking away from Charles’s gaze. ‘“Whatever it takes”, Charles. That’s what we both promised ourselves, after we found each other again. That we would do _whatever it took_ to stop the perpetrators and bring them to justice. Remember? Well – I think we can now safely say that we did that.’ He looked Charles straight in the eye. ‘And, speaking bluntly, I do not regret a single thing.’ He then faltered as his eyes traced over Charles’s bandaged skull, and the trappings of his other injuries. ‘That is,’ he said, dropping his gaze. ‘I don’t regret _most_ things.’

Charles rolled his eyes. ‘Never mind that,’ he said briskly. ‘The point is that it’s over and done with. It’s _over_.’

‘Yes,’ Erik agreed. ‘Now all that’s left is the cleanup.’ He looked at Charles. ‘Have you been interviewed yet?’ 

Charles shook his head. ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘I get the feeling that the hospital have been keeping the police away while I recover. Moira’s been helping on that front as well.’ He paused. ‘What about you?’

Erik nodded. ‘I have,’ he said. ‘Yesterday. They seem to accept the story.’

‘No reason why they shouldn’t,’ Charles murmured, but he looked relieved nonetheless. ‘We built a solid story for them to follow. We’ve got the recordings – Raven edited those for us, I gather, which is a relief. And I’m sure she and Moira did their parts in corroborating our story.’

‘Yes,’ Erik agreed. ‘I’m sure they did.’ He hesitated and then glanced up. ‘You’ve talked to Raven, I suppose?’ he said awkwardly. ‘Properly, I mean?’

‘I have,’ Charles confirmed. ‘You?’

‘A little,’ Erik said carefully. He paused. ‘She wasn’t very happy with me.’

‘No?’

‘No,’ Erik said feelingly. ‘She seemed to believe that I had almost got her big brother killed.’

Charles rolled his eyes. ‘She can’t possibly blame you for that.’

‘Oh no, she blames both of us,’ Erik assured him. ‘I just got the brunt of it because out of the two of us I’m the one who looks the least like he’s just been hit by a bus.’

Charles winced. ‘That bad?’ he asked.

‘Worse,’ Erik said, looking solemn. His expression slipped then, and Charles was, for the fraction of a second, able to see just how tired and worried Erik looked. ‘Christ, Charles,’ he said, running a hand through his hair. ‘When I saw Shaw … when I saw what he did to you …’ His voice trailed off, but his hands were clenched into tight, bruising fists.

‘I know,’ Charles said quietly. ‘It was the same for me.’

Erik shook his head. ‘And yet somehow we got out alive,’ he said, his tone almost wondering. 

‘We did,’ Charles agreed. ‘And that’s something that I, personally, will be forever grateful for.’

Erik met his eyes and they both smiled. For a minute it looked like Erik was about to say something, but then a nurse appeared at the door and the moment was lost.

‘Visiting hours are over, I’m afraid,’ she said, smiling at Charles, before turning a hard look on Erik. ‘Even for other patients.’

Erik rolled his eyes. ‘Understood,’ he muttered, letting out a grunt as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. He glanced back at Charles and his expression softened. ‘You need to sleep,’ he said, reaching out and patting his arm. ‘Get your strength back.’

‘You too,’ Charles murmured. The pain and exhaustion that had abandoned him for the duration of Erik’s visit were now slowly making themselves known again, and Charles’s eyelids were once again feeling heavy. ‘Don’t harass the nurses,’ he managed to add, even as his eyelids drooped downwards.

There was a soft pressure on his arm, as if someone was gently squeezing it. ‘I won’t,’ he heard Erik say softly, before the pressure lifted, leaving Charles feeling oddly bereft. ‘Goodnight, Charles.’

_Goodnight_ , Charles murmured, and then Erik was gone and Charles was free to release his hold on his consciousness and drift downwards into sleep.

*****

Erik was released from the hospital two days after that; though, as Charles remarked dryly, with the amount of time he still spent there by Charles’s side, it was almost like he’d never left.

Raven had left the same day that Erik had been discharged. She had stayed long enough to make sure that Charles was well on his way to making a full recovery before returning to her team, her job and her responsibilities, though not before she and Charles had spent the entirety of the preceding two days together, talking quietly and more honestly than it seemed that they had done since childhood. The moment when Erik had arrived at the door to Charles’s room on the first night had made things momentarily awkward; none of them had forgotten the last time that the three of them had been together under one roof. The events with Shaw had given them all a new sense of perspective, however, and so they had quickly got past that, and for a time things were almost the way that they had used to be, all those years ago. Erik hadn’t stayed long, however, and, after awkwardly kissing Raven’s cheek, had left the room, promising to return the next day.

Raven had watched him go, and had then turned her laser-like gaze on Charles.

‘So,’ she’d said. ‘What do you intend to do about that?’

Charles did not respond, but the question lingered in his mind long after Raven had gone.

Moira was also a frequent visitor. Her work at the police department kept her busy, but she always made time to pop in to see him and, with their defenses both lowered, Charles found that the two of them got on really quite well. Even Erik grudgingly admitted that she wasn’t too bad, after their visitations with Charles had overlapped on a few occasions.

Mostly, though, Charles and Erik were left alone. The nurses knew by now that it was not worth the effort to try to evict Erik even after visiting hours had elapsed so, as long as he did not interfere with their rounds, they were happy enough to turn a blind eye to his continued presence in Charles’s room.

‘They think we’re sweet,’ Charles had drawled to Erik once after he had been returned to his room following what had to be his hundredth cerebral MRI, only to find Erik hovering there anxiously, waiting for his return. ‘I can hear them think about how adorable we are whenever they pass by the door.’

Erik snorted. ‘I’ve never been called adorable in my life.’

Charles smiled. ‘Not to your face, maybe,’ he said, before closing his eyes.

Erik merely huffed and shook his head, but his smile – soft and secret and solely for himself – was slow to leave his lips.

*****

Erik was of course there the day that Charles was finally discharged from the hospital. He waited as Charles signed the forms and said the requisite goodbyes, and then wheeled him out of the doors in the functional metallic wheelchair that they had provided.

‘I’m glad I’m finally out of there,’ Charles said, taking in a deep breath of air and smiling at the late afternoon sky. ‘You have no idea how much I have missed the fresh air.’

‘You’ve missed the _scotch_ ,’ Erik said dryly, but a smile tugged up at the corner of his lips and he silently pushed the wheelchair away from the busy entrance and towards the quieter grassy parkland off to the side. 

Charles laughed at that. ‘You know me so well,’ he said, reaching out a hand to trail his fingers against the flowers that lined the path. He sounded fond.

Erik snorted. ‘Yes, well – I’ve known you long enough.’

‘Years and years,’ Charles agreed. ‘Feels like a lifetime.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘In a good way or a bad way?’

Charles smiled. ‘Oh, good, without a doubt,’ he said at once. ‘Well – a little bad, perhaps, but mostly all good.’ He gave Erik a sideways glance. ‘The fact is, we would be very different people, you and I, if we hadn’t met.’

‘If you hadn’t been foisted on me as a partner, you mean?’ Erik asked, but he was smiling.

‘You got lucky with me, and you know it,’ Charles said dryly, before leaning back and sighing. ‘Those were the days, though, weren’t they?’ He sounded wistful. ‘Back when we were just starting out … when we were young and foolish.’ He gave Erik a sideways look. ‘I suppose we are just _old_ and foolish now.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Erik smirked, before sobering. ‘But … I hope not _as_ foolish,’ he said after a pause. ‘I would think – I would _hope_ – that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes now that I made … _before_.’

Charles looked down at the floor. ‘Yes well,’ he said after a pause. ‘I would hope so too.’

Erik looked at Charles for a long moment. ‘You know,’ he said quietly. ‘Growing older and wiser doesn’t mean that you change completely. Some things … some things still remain the same. Even after years and years.’

Charles continued to gaze pensively down at the ground. ‘Yes,’ he said cautiously. ‘I suppose that’s true. I guess – I guess it all really depends on _which_ parts are the same. Don’t you think?’

Erik didn’t answer. They were both silent for a minute.

‘What will you do, after all this?’ Erik asked after a beat, causing Charles to look up. ‘Do you think you will go back to Oxford, or …’ he trailed off.

‘Honestly?’ Charles considered and then shrugged. ‘I really couldn’t tell you. Everything’s happened so fast. I haven’t had the chance to think … to _decide_ …’ 

‘You really haven’t thought about it?’ Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘You haven’t got anything you need to get back to?’ There was a pause. ‘There’s no one there who – who’s waiting for you?’

Charles shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘There isn’t. And I honestly haven’t thought about it yet. I haven’t let myself.’ He looked at Erik. ‘It’s a big decision, you know,’ he said quietly. ‘When I left Oxford, I left it knowing that there was a good chance that I would never be able to go back. I tied up my loose ends, I said my goodbyes … I _finished_ things. I was prepared for the fact that, one way or another, I would never be going back until the case was over for me. But now …’ he shook his head wonderingly. ‘Now I _could_ go back. I could have my teaching, my students, my _friends_ – everything that I strived to build for ten whole years. I could return to that.’

Erik’s face was unreadable. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I suppose you could.’

Charles glanced at him. ‘I mean,’ he said slowly. ‘It all really depends on whether there is any reason _not_ to.’

There was a pause. 

‘What about the work?’ Erik asked after a moment.

Charles frowned. ‘What work?’

‘ _Our_ work,’ Erik said, gesturing vaguely with his left arm. ‘We could go back to that, you know. If that’s something you’d want. The department would take us back in a heartbeat after what we did, you know they would. We could go back … it would be like old times. Or,’ he hesitated. ‘We could branch out.’

‘Oh?’ Charles asked. ‘How?’

Erik didn’t speak for a moment. Then, ‘Raven,’ he said abruptly. ‘She told you what she does, didn’t she? Who she works with?’

Charles nodded slowly. ‘She did,’ he said.

Erik took a deep breath. ‘Well, I’ve been thinking,’ he said haltingly. ‘It sounds …’ he hesitated, glancing down at his hands. ‘It sounds … _interesting_.’

Charles snorted. ‘Say what you want to say, Erik,’ he said dryly.

Erik grimaced. ‘I just feel – it’s something to consider, for the both of us. Don’t you think?’

Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘You think so?’ He watched Erik for a moment and then smiled ruefully and shook his head. ‘And I’m supposed to completely disregard the fact that Raven would absolutely _loathe_ the idea of working with her big brother, am I?’ he said wryly.

Erik opened his mouth to protest but Charles shook his head and let out a huff of amusement. ‘You know, I had a feeling that it would appeal to you,’ he said. ‘But to answer your question, Erik – no. No, I’m afraid this is it for me, my friend. I’m done with this life. The only reason I came back was to finish what we started ten years ago. We did that, and we put those ghosts to rest.’ He shook his head. ‘My work here is done. There’s no going back to it now. Not for me.’

Erik nodded. He looked disappointed, but not particularly surprised.

‘You can still do it, though,’ Charles said encouragingly. ‘I’m sure Raven wouldn’t mind taking you on.’

Erik just shook his head. ‘I would only ever consider going back to that sort of work if I had you by my side,’ he said honestly. ‘Without you … there’s no point.’

‘ _Raven_ would be there,’ Charles reminded him. ‘And I hear that Moira will be on the lookout for a new partner very soon. I think the two of you would work splendidly together.’

Erik glared at him. Then he snorted. ‘I’ll think about it,’ was all he said.

‘You never know,’ Charles said lightly, continuing despite Erik’s clear lack of interest in pursuing the matter. ‘You may find that you’re much happier working with someone who isn’t me.’

Erk shot him a sharp look. ‘I doubt it,’ he replied shortly. 

‘You can’t know that,’ Charles protested.

‘I can,’ Erik said at once, meeting his eyes fiercely. ‘I _do_. I’ve always known it. You … there’s no one else, Charles. Just you.’

Charles looked at him in surprise, the tips of his ears turning red, before he abruptly looked away, still looking flushed. ‘I – thank you, my friend. That means a lot to me.’

Erik watched him closely, scrutinising him as if he were looking for something. At last he nodded and looked away. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said quietly.

A minute or two passed in silence.

Erik sighed. ‘We should probably get you home,’ he said at length, looking around at the darkening grass.

Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘Home?’ he queried.

Erik rolled his eyes. ‘You know what I mean,’ he said. ‘ _Mine_. Though it may as well be ours by this point.’

Charles glanced up at him. ‘Is this you asking me to move in?’ he murmured, sounding amused.

‘Why, would you say yes?’ Erik shot back immediately.

Charles considered, still looking entertained by the notion. ‘Well I suppose the last few weeks haven’t been _too_ bad …’ he mused. ‘And I don’t suppose that I have anywhere else to be for the moment …’

Erik snorted. ‘Your enthusiasm is overwhelming,’ he said sarcastically.

Charles grinned. ‘I’m just saying,’ he said, holding his hands up. ‘My bed at home in Oxford is a _lot_ more comfortable than that plank of wood you have in your guest room.’

Erik’s smile slipped away. ‘Oxford,’ he repeated, his brow furrowed. He looked down at his feet. ‘You always sound as if – you seemed to have been happy there.’

‘I was,’ Charles answered honestly. ‘Very happy.’

Erik fell silent. Then, ‘You deserve to be happy,’ he said quietly.

‘Yes,’ Charles agreed, his tone wry. ‘I do.’ He paused. ‘So do you.’

Neither of them spoke for a minute.

Then: ‘Having you here again makes me happy,’ Erik said softly.

Charles sent him a sharp look.

Erik went on, avoiding Charles’s eyes. ‘I know things are different, now that the case is over,’ he said carefully. ‘Now that there’s nothing else to think about and no reason for us to remain together.’ Charles opened his mouth to speak but Erik hurried on. ‘I understand if you would rather go somewhere else – to Raven, or a hotel or back to Oxford – wherever. But I just wanted to say—’ He took a deep breath. ‘I wanted to say that I’d like for you to stay. If – if that’s what you want. Even if it’s not for long. Even if it’s just until you are better. Just—’ he met Charles’s eyes. ‘Stay,’ he said. ‘Stay here for a while. With me.’

Charles stared at him. 

‘It doesn’t even have to be my place,’ Erik said quickly. ‘I mean it’s small and it’s no place for a couple of invalids – and it’s too full of our notes and files about the case, too full of history. We could get somewhere else. Temporary, of course – just until you’re better. Until you decide.’ He met Charles’s eyes. ‘Whatever you want, Charles. Just – _stay_.’

Charles looked visibly moved by the words. ‘Oh Erik,’ he said, his expression serious. ‘Are you sure? Are you really sure that’s what you want?’

‘Yes,’ Erik said immediately, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. ‘It’s what I want. Charles – it’s what I have wanted since the day we _met_.’

Charles went still. He stared at Erik for a long moment, looking completely taken aback. Then his expression abruptly softened. 

‘Okay,’ he said, dipping his head into a nod and smiling slowly, tentatively. ‘Okay then. I can do that. I can stay.’

Erik’s breath caught in his chest. He stared at Charles for a moment, looking slightly disbelieving. ‘And then,’ he bravely continued, his voice slightly rough. ‘When you’re feeling better … we could maybe have dinner?’

Charles looked at him. His lips slowly curled upwards. ‘Dinner sounds lovely,’ he said, his expression warm, before slowly, carefully, reaching out to take Erik’s hand. ‘I think I can do that too.’

Erik looked down at their linked hands. Then he looked back at Charles. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. 

Charles smiled at him. ‘I’m sure,’ he said gently. His smile widened. ‘I’ve been sure since the day we met.’

They both stood there for a moment, looking back at each other and smiling.

One of the lights along the pathway flickered. Charles glanced around, distracted, and then sighed, breaking the moment. ‘We should probably go,’ he said, looking up ruefully. ‘It’s getting darker.’

‘Oh?’ Erik did not sound fazed. His gaze was still fixed firmly on Charles. ‘I wouldn’t say that. Everything looks brighter, if you’d ask me.’

Charles’s eyes crinkled at that. He smiled at Erik, his expression soft and full of unconcealed affection. ‘Come on then,’ he said, tugging gently at Erik’s hand. ‘Let’s go home.’

Erik smiled. ‘Let’s,’ he said. Then, lacing their hands together, he nudged Charles’s chair forward with a gentle push, and the two of them began making their way out of the garden, leaving the hospital in the distance behind them.

Up above, the first stars began to twinkle brightly among the clouds, bringing light into the previously dark sky.


End file.
